


If Tomorrow Wasn't Such a Long Time

by HappyBlueInk



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Caryl, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2017-12-06 07:51:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyBlueInk/pseuds/HappyBlueInk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl is starting to realize there are things worth caring about and with lack of time, is it possible for him to open up before the Governor comes knocking on the prison doors? Possible spoilers in later chapters, be warned!</p><p>--Starts off after "Beside the Dying Fire" but transitions into "Killer Within" soon after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during sporadic moments in the series. The general plot will revolve around the episode of "The Killer Within" and progressively afterward, however, I wanted to start off after "Beside the Dying Fire" to establish some sort of timeline for the events that are in Chapter 1.
> 
> A lot of this is Daryl's thoughts on Carol and what brought him to care so much for Carol. Kind of wanted to do somewhat of a character analysis on him in the context of thought processes and his interactions with members of the group. If you like, please let me know. Any suggestions would also be welcome as far as my structuring. Sometimes I can go overboard and not realize that I've done something stupid. Not to mention I haven't written anything in YEARS. Please, enjoy.
> 
> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.  
> 

Everything had happened so fast. He'd felt his stomach drop and his heart tense as he saw the little girl stumble out of the barn, hands jerking up to shield the sun from her pale lifeless eyes. He could hear Carol scream for Sophia and felt himself drop his shotgun to grab her before she could get near the girl. He'd held her close as they fell to their knees in the dirt. Carol reached out for Sophia but Daryl held her in his arms; a protective arm wound across her chest his thumb gently rubbing her shoulder. Every so often he caught himself glancing over towards the reanimated Sophia, but quickly averting his eyes elsewhere. It was hard to watch the girl stagger towards the group, a ravenous machine. It was a constant reminder that he was never going to be good enough for anyone.

A loud bang echoed. Only sobbing filled the almost permeable atmosphere. The smoke trailed from Rick's gun and Sophia lay on the ground. It was over. Daryl knew he could never have had the will to shoot the girl himself. It would have been ironic and almost cruel if it had been him to end her pathetic existence as one of those monsters.

Daryl could feel Carol shiver and collapse further into the dirt. Her fists clenched as she repeated: No, no, Sophia, my baby, my Sophia. This was barely audible even to Daryl whom was within breathing distance of her. Daryl loosened his grip on the woman and eased himself to rest his head against her back. He could feel her body trembling with sobs. He blinked back his shame and glowered into Carol's back; her crying being a reminder that he hadn't done well enough by her to prevent it.

"C'mon... Don't look." Daryl grunted.

He'd finally found his legs and tried to stand pulling the crying Carol with him. She'd jerked away from him as he had helped her up trying to remove her from the grotesque massacre that lay at their feet. Carol thrashed from his hold and stormed off back to the RV. Daryl shrugged her reaction away. The woman had lost her daughter, yet somehow he felt partly responsible.

"She's going to be just fine." He'd told her.

He felt like a liar. She hadn't been fine. He'd been out in the woods searching for a ghost the entire time. Gouged himself with one of his bolts after having been thrown from a horse down a ravine and clipped on his temple by a stray bullet in the process. His fingers flew to his waist and thumbed the fresh bandage through his shirt. None of those pains mattered now. The doll he had found washed up on the river bank nor the bedding in the abandoned farm house he had thought been hers. None of it.

He had failed. And it stung.

They had already lost so much thus far, but finding Sophia... That had been a beast all of its own. Everyone had been counting on her safe return and here Daryl was empty handed with nothing to show for his efforts but a tattered old doll. He hated to admit defeat but that was all he could do, Shane had been right.

Daryl suddenly was brought back to the situation at hand. He realized where he was and everything felt tense. He could feel everyone's eyes boring into him. Their eyes: lifeless and cold. Daryl began to tremble from their accusing looks. Everyone's attention on him as if a spotlight had been set on him. He felt like he was tucking his tail between his legs as he backed away from them.

"Your fault..." He could hear them say.

"I was out there every single day. I kept looking for her." He spat out. He could feel himself start to bristle at the thought of being accused of her becoming a walker.

"I tried!" He cried, starting to pace back and forth like a caged animal. His fists clenching and unclenching with each pace.

\----------

Daryl could feel a sharp kick to the heel of his boot which thrust him from his sleep. He quickly jerked to a sitting position, knife clutched in his hand prepared for the sudden awakening. Rick stood over him and quickly gestured for him to calm down and lower the knife. Daryl could feel the hot beads of sweat dripping down his temples and absently wiped them away. Another nightmare.

"Sorry, you were thrashing about." Rick said as he crouched before him. Daryl's eyes roved over Rick carefully. He could see the tired in his eyes from the traveling they'd been doing. Gray hairs peppered Rick's dark hair and beard and he wondered if the pressure of being the "leader" was starting to take its toll on him. He kept that observation to himself. Rick looked weathered and exhausted. Granted he was just the same: cheeks gaunt, his body sore and lean from starvation, thoughts in a constant flurry at all times, and his temper all the sharper.

"Was it about Sophia?" Rick asked keeping his voice low and out of earshot of any of the other group members. Daryl's eyes shot up to meet Rick's. Their gazes didn't falter.

Rick studied Daryl with weary eyes. He could see Daryl chewing his bottom lip. A nervous habit of his that he had noticed. He wasn't sure if it was just a defense mechanism to prevent Daryl from saying something foolish or a habit he had acquired because he wasn't sure what the proper response was for the situation. He could tell that confrontation or any remote closeness to another person was still something foreign to Daryl even after he had been incorporated into the group as a vital member. Daryl was as wild as they came but loyal if given the opportunity and he had taken it.

Rick looked to his hands and tried to remove some of the dirt from beneath his nails. "You have to stop blaming yourself for what happened, Daryl. You did all that you could. Carol knows that. Hell, you almost died looking for her daughter."

Daryl stopped his nervous habit and averted his eyes away from Rick. His guts felt twisted like he couldn't relax. Everything just seemed to be at arms' length of hope.

"It's my fault. I'm not near as good a tracker as Merle. He woulda found her." Daryl huffed, his brows furrowing at the mention of his brothers' feats. Everything he knew about tracking or hunting had been learned from Merle. Those were the only things Daryl had cared to learn from Merle. He was nothing like his older brother besides his sharp attitude and immediate distrust of most people. A survivor's instinct burned inside of him and was unlikely to be snuffed out.

Rick adjusted from his crouched position to a kneel, head hung low. "That may be so, but Merle wasn't here." He paused and looked at Daryl. "You were. And you did what you could. You found her doll-"

"A doll!" He hissed. Daryl could feel his anger beginning to surge. "I found a ratty old doll. But not her!"

Daryl's nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. He had become so defensive over the doll when Shane had brought up the thing, yet here he was reiterating how foolish he had been then; now using it as a retaliation. A mere doll was supposed to be the predictor of whether the girl had been alive or dead? He shook his head and began to stare at the grease rag that lay sprawled on the floor from his pocket.

Rick let out a long sigh. He was becoming frustrated with trying to comfort the younger man. "Daryl, what am I supposed to tell you? That all this was your fault? That she ended up in the barn because you aren't an expert tracker like your brother? No... This was my fault. I shouldn't have left her by the water. I made the wrong call. What happened to her..." Rick paused. "That was all me. She was pleading with me not to go, but I knew for us to survive it had to be me trekking those walkers away from her. But that wasn't enough and she was bit..."

Daryl could feel Rick's eyes focus on him again: studying him for a reaction. Daryl tensed. He felt like he was being scrutinized for some reason, but only assumed. Rick was somewhat apologizing for what had happened, but this should have been meant for Carol and not him.

"S'pose so," was all Daryl could mutter back in response. His fingers swirling the rag in the dirt.

Rick acknowledged his response and nodded in quick agreement. "Alright then. I'll leave you to your thoughts."

Daryl watched as Rick stood up and made his way back to the camp. He had been keeping to himself away from the group. Setting up his tent just a little ways from everyone so as not to be disturbed or disturb anyone when he would leave to go hunting at the break of dawn. His thoughts were still askew but he felt like he'd received a bit more closure than he had been anticipating. And it seemed about time to sweep things under the rug for now. Today was a new day and there was no knowing if he would see tomorrow.

The sun was beginning to creep over the canopy of trees in the distance and Daryl took this as a sign that it was time for some hunting before they ventured out on the open road with nothing in their bellies. Everyone would be getting up soon and he wanted to be back with some sort of kill ready to be cooked.

He stalked by a few sleeping bodies near the camp fire, crossbow slung over his shoulder and buck knife tucked into its sheath at his hip. He heard a small cough and stopped where he was, looking to the source of the noise. Carol sat a few feet away from the fire sweater hugged tightly to her body.

Daryl tipped his head to her, acknowledging her presence and continued to make his way out of camp.

"Hunting?" She asked.

Daryl stopped once more. "Yeah." He drawled. He was getting a little impatient. Sunlight was starting to creep further. "I'll be back later.” She shivered a bit. Without hesitation Daryl removed the horse blanket from his quiver and held it out to her. Carol's gaze moved slowly to the blanket. He shook it at her as if to say, “Take the damned thing or I'll change my mind.”

She took it and shrugged it around her shoulders. A smile crept onto her lips. “What?” he quipped, adjusting his weight to one leg, hand to his hip in a questionable manner. Her gaze went back to the fire.

"Be safe, Daryl." She said never looking back at him. Her gaze focused on the burning coals that the small fire licked up from. She must have been tending to it most of the night, he reckoned, seeing that it still had yet to die.

Her words rattled inside his head. "Be safe, Daryl." It soothed and eased his thoughts a bit as if she had placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He shook his head, ridding himself of the question as to why she'd smile like that.

"Yes'm", he replied and crept quietly out of the camp.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support and positive feedback on this piece that I've started! Without you guys I don't think I would continue to write or bother continuing at all. Another flashback and another moment of analyzing on behalf of Daryl. Eventually I may transition into Carol, but for now I like being inside Daryl's head. It's far more complicated than I perceived it to be and I am thoroughly enjoying it. Again positive and constructive criticism is always welcome. Let me know if you guys hate or love the way I structure things, dislike how the characters are, etc. etc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Carol came in with a tray of food and inquired about how he felt. He was in pain from having pulled the bolt from his side and his body ached something awful, but he wouldn't let them know about that. It wasn't any of their concern. He pulled the sheet up realizing that half his torso was revealed for her to see in all his wounded glory. Daryl rolled over and saw the plate of delicious food and the cold drink. He was starved. That squirrel hadn't done much to ease the pang of hunger when he had been out earlier that day.

Carol had moved in close to him. Immediately he flinched away bringing his shoulder up to eliminate any contact, but withdrew shortly after. He hadn't realized she was inching closer to him till she'd moved. Carol placed a kiss upon his temple. He stared at her in confusion as to why she would do such a thing. No normal woman kissed him like that. Not even his own mother. Daryl watched her with curious and unknowing eyes as he scanned her reaction to his action. She was like a statue. Her features were set. He'd felt a small jolt of warmth by the touch. He quickly shrugged off the feeling and drawled in a hoarse voice, "Watch out, you'll pull my stitches."

This wasn't true in the least bit, Hershel had wound a bandage around his head, but he knew it would make her more hesitant to try it again. He didn't like being touched. Human contact always made him weary and brought up old memories. It was still new to him, being part of a group and being acknowledged as a cog to help run the machine. It made him feel... needed. He wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not. He'd never really been needed before and it was very weird.

"You're every bit as good as them. Every bit."

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows at the statement. He didn't quite understand why Carol would tell him something like that. He was only trying to find the girl so they could move on. Fueled his anger into something useful by tracking the girl and bringing the camp some prey while venturing. He already sensed the unwantedness projeccted by Hershel. It was only a matter of time before they wore out their welcome and he would send them all packing.

Carol didn't stare at the scars on Daryl's body that weren’t covered by the thin sheet. Simply had ignored them. Her attention was on him. Her eyes meeting his as an equal. Daryl watched her. His eyes shifting back and forth like a hawk scanning her for some expression. He knew that she probably looked similar. He'd borne witness to some of Ed's beatings, but always from a distance. He never felt it was his place to step in to their trifles. It wasn't his marriage nor was she his wife.

He'd seen first hand too many times what it meant to be struck by someone who was supposed to care for you. He'd seen his own mother all too often beaten by his father as well as himself at his wrath. Daryl had never wanted to become what his father was. He'd strived so hard to not be that man.

And yet... He had gotten so close to it though.

Carol had gone to where he was camped. He had been leaving the woods from taking a piss when he noticed her walking about browsing his campsite. Observing the furs of the prey he'd killed and skinned. Then she came to the walker ears. A trophy if you could call them that from having one of the most hellish days of his life. Bucked from a horse, impaled with an arrow, tumbling down the ravine for a second time further inching the arrow deeper into his side, and then attacked by two walkers. It was reason enough to keep the damned things.

He didn't like her browsing through his stuff, judging him perhaps. She probably thought he was just some ill-tempered redneck. His cheeks flushed hot and he made his way over towards her. Daryl had caught her off guard by the crunch of the leaves beneath his boots. Carol spun with a gasp.

“What're you doin'?” he snapped. Eyes roving over her for her reason for being there. He didn't like it when the others riffled through his things or came near his campsite. He stayed away from them and figured they'd have enough decency to leave him be.

“Keepin' an eye on you.” Said Carol with a cool collectedness.

Daryl's eyes never left Carol's. He studied her. Watched her. What did he need watching over? He was better on his own anyhow. He didn't need them.

“Go ahead.” She said. This caught him off guard.

His eyes narrowed. "Go ahead and what?" He sneered.

What was Carol playing at? Why had she come? Was she daring him to hit her? Was that her ploy? To get him to hit her? So she could feel something? This pissed him off to no end that she would come there to use him like that. Daryl lashed out at her. He'd kept his anger at bay but her challenging him was the straw that broke the camel's back. He let it all out. He spat harsh words hoping she'd just leave him be. He didn't want her there to begin with. What did she care? She had no reason to bother with him. She'd only needed him to find her daughter and to be blunt, they had.

“I can't lose you too.” Echoed in the back of his head.

It was like a fuse had been set off triggering something inside of him. Why did Carol come here? Why? Lose him too? What did she like own him now or something? Was he just some tool that she needed to cling to? She had nothing left and was he her only connection to what had remained of Sophia? Her last hope? He felt perturbed by this irrationality, what made this all the more frustrating was Carol never moved. She didn't say anything. She just watched him. Her expression never changed. Was she judging him? What was she thinking? She just took his verbal beating. Why?

Daryl became more angered by her lack of emotion. He couldn't read her and it bothered him to no end. What was she fucking thinking?

"You ain't my problem. Sophia wasn't mine... All you had to do was keep an eye on her!” He yelled.

Carol had spurned so much anger from him that he took a step forward towards her. His hand poised to strike her quickly dropped to his side. He realized what he had been in the process of doing. After all he had tried to do, Carol had just simply given up. Daryl's desire to want to find Sophia had been so strong in himself because he had seen the love that Carol projected to her daughter. It had been her conviction in finding Sophia. The fact that someone cared enough to want to find her.

It rang close to home with him. Daryl had been lost himself out in the woods, for nine whole days, but no one had cared to look for him. Merle was in juvie and his father out making callous attempts with some floozy woman. He had been alone in the woods and no one had even known or noticed he was gone.

His eyes flickered away from Carol. A woman-batterer. That wasn't part of who he was and he knew that. Daryl had never struck a woman and he wasn't about to start now.

"Every bit as good as them." Had echoed into his ears and he'd studied her for a reaction. Daryl clenched his jaw shut and watched as she blinked back tears and let out a small sob.

Before he could verbally abuse her anymore than he had already done, Daryl stormed off into the dark. It was that pathetic cry she let out after he'd finished yelling at her that told him she had had enough. He'd lashed out at Carol with a venomous bite. Part of the things he had said were not true. He just wanted to make her feel bad for not wanting to attend her own daughter's funeral. He had gone to pay his respects, hell he had tried to encourage her to go. He may not have cared much for Sophia herself, but he'd be damned if he didn't try and find her. A child alone in the woods? In this world? A world of disaster was waiting to happen and it had.

But for a mother to not attend her own child's burial? It had hurt him deeply. Daryl couldn't quite understand why it bothered him so much but it had and it was driving him almost crazy trying to figure out why.

Maybe it was the hope he had channeled through Carol. He'd given her something to hold on to. Her hope had been squandered upon the revelation that Sophia was no longer alive. Hope was something none of them really clung to but this time had been different. Daryl had tried so hard to keep that hope alive.

That was why he had given Carol the Cherokee Rose. He wanted to reinvigorate her hope and keep it burning so he could work off that. Give him something to do.

And yet despite all the squabbles he had had with Carol she still stayed by his side. Why? He wasn't particularly nice nor sociable. He was quiet and kept to himself, yet she always made sure he had something to eat. Whenever he trekked off in the dark or left somewhere to hunt, he always heard her say, “Be safe.”

Daryl huffed in frustration and raked his hands through his hair pacing back and forth. Why did this bother him so much? What was the point of all these “feelings”? They screwed too much with his head. Too much clutter in a man's head could kill him.

“You're every bit as good as them.”

He thrust a powerful kick into an old tree stump and watched as the thing rolled. “Son of a bitch.” He growled between clenched teeth.

“Every bit.”

\----------

Daryl stared at the head wrap in his hands, sounds of the old prison groaning bringing him from his thoughts back to the here and now. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding back and forth. His fingers rhythmically played with the cloth feeling for traces of her left. Not even a wispy strand of hair was caught in the cloth.

There had been blood everywhere. T-Dog's corpse lay mutilated a mere few feet away. His eyes slowly moved towards the remains and back to where the wrap had been. This was the only sign of Carol anywhere and not a good one either. Her pistol lay empty of rounds on the ground.

Daryl could feel himself tensing up. Anger beginning to seethe into his pores. He threw the head wrap to the ground in frustration and stormed off with Rick and Glenn as they continued their search through the prison for the rest of their group. He quickly pocketed her pistol before taking one last look at the room.

They turned corridors and checked every room they came across. No sign of Lori, Carl, Maggie or Carol. Each room they stumbled upon Daryl could feel himself becoming more and more twisted in his guts. He felt with each pound of his heart, it became harder to breathe. Daryl tried his best to ignore the anxiety this caused him. He wanted to kick in each door he came across to let loose the anger he felt, but that wouldn't make Carol come back.

They finally made it out of the prison. Nothing. Daryl lingered by the door hoping he might hear a faint call from within the catacomb-like halls. He could vaguely hear the conversation going on between Rick and Hershel. He didn't recall adding his two cents into their conversation but he did. He was thrust from his thoughts by the sound of a baby crying. He shut his eyes in exasperation, a shallow breath escaped his lips, head dropped and he kicked the ground.

One look. That's all it took. Lori and Carol weren't there with Maggie and Carl. He felt that thought wash through him like his blood had been drained and he felt cold. The wailing continued, but it was drowned out by Rick's mental collapse. Daryl glanced up and saw Rick rolling on the ground crying. He had hit his breaking point.

Rick suddenly got up and kneeled in a catatonic state. The change in behaviors had been so drastic Daryl wasn't really sure what to think of the situation. Rick was unblinking and unmoving. Daryl made his way over to him and waved a hand in front of his face to grab his attention. No response.

"Rick." Said Daryl as he observed Rick. His eyes had dilated and his breathing was in short fast breaths. A crease in Daryl's brow expressed his concern as he called one last time. "Rick." Suddenly, Rick jerked himself up and made his way to the cell block. He instinctively grabbed his axe from the floor as he walked on by without saying another word. Daryl had seen the look in his eye change that last brief moment and it was deadly.

Chewing his bottom lip, Daryl knew what had to be done and felt himself go into auto-pilot. Barking orders and hustling the group back into their cell block. His only thoughts were, "Not her." This baby was a concern and he couldn't stomach the thought of losing one so young.

Daryl swung the crossbow to his back and made his way to his motorcycle. He started the ignition and revved it to life. He felt Maggie against his back, her hands on his waist as she held him. The motorcycle growl sounded so soft compared to his rampant thoughts. He wasn't sure how he'd made it to wherever it was that Maggie had directed him, but they'd gotten there.

A daycare center. Daryl quickly removed his worries and set to work. Eyes darting over the landscape as he backed Maggie up from behind. They'd made their way through a window and into a room with cut-out hands with their respective child's name scrawled across it. Sophie caught his eye. Daryl took a long look at the hand. Seemed to be ghosts were always on his heels. Quickly, he followed after Maggie. He couldn't dwell on ghosts right now. Not when he was being counted on.

He set off in the opposite direction of Maggie and began rummaging through some cupboards after he had made a thorough sweep of the room. No walkers. Daryl would've heard them had they been there with their growling and hissing and their smell. Not much had been left. Broken toys that would have benefited an older child. His attention was drawn to a dirty yellow item left on a children's table.

A doll. Perfect.

A loud thumping and scraping noise drew his attention out of the room, crossbow raised to his shoulder. He quietly stalked down the hall, Maggie following in tow from the room she had just been searching. The possum would make do for dinner. Least that could be done for it raising alarms in their heads that they weren't the only things left in the building. Maggie scoffed at the possum and let Daryl grab the dead thing.

“Alright, dinner.”

He tucked it under his belt and helped find the remaining items they needed.

\--------

Night had crept up on them by the time Daryl and Maggie got back. They rushed into the cell block, Maggie thrusting the duffle bag of supplies onto the table, speedily making formula. Daryl went to Carl and ushered the wailing baby into his arms, rocking back and forth cooing to soothe the crying.

The sobs softened and he snapped his fingers for the bottle that Beth had in her hands. Daryl adjusted the bottle and got the babe to suckle quieting the room. Only the noise of suckling and his shuffling feet could be heard. It felt natural the way he had rocked the baby back and forth whilst cradling the soft head. He had never held a baby before but had seen it done numerous times from the young mothers in the neighborhood he'd grown up in. Cradle the head and bounce the thing. Seemed simple enough and it had been. He had no idea why he always heard the mother's fussing when people misheld their infants. As if you could screw up holding a child. A thin crooked smile spread across his lips and he glanced at Carl.

"She got a name yet?"

Carl adjusted uncomfortably from where he stood and said, "Maybe Sophia."

Daryl stopped rocking back and forth, eyes flickered to Carl, his smile was less soft and tugged into a slight grimace. His gaze was hard and seemed to negate the gentleness he had just evoked.

"Carol."

Daryl's jaw set. He was biting his lip again. His tongue clicking against his teeth. He wanted to smack Carl for even being so foolish to name the baby after the dead. He understood why Carl was listing the women that had died over the course of their journey, but it still angered him nonetheless. There was no honor in naming something so innocent after people who had died gratuitously before their time. He quickly let go of the anger he held for the boy and returned his focus to the baby in his arms gently rocking back and forth again.

“Like that, huh? Lil' asskicker,” he paused and looked at the remaining members of the group. He wasn't aiming to say this aloud but he had. They chuckled at his remark. The mood lightened and his tension eased. “Right that's a good name, eh? Like that, huh? Like that sweetheart?” he continued as he rocked again.

It was interesting. Daryl Dixon holding a baby and cooing at it. The thought made his cheeks flush. Had the world gone insane? He had never been one to enjoy the presence of children let alone infants, but somehow this felt different. And he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be OK with it. Daryl looked to one of the women and passed the baby off to one of them feeling slightly embarrassed. He'd had enough of playing the role of "leader".

He acknowledged the remaining group members and set out of the prison to stand watch. He needed time for himself. Tonight had been very trying and upsetting for all of them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the support and positive feedback! Again positive and constructive criticism is always welcome. Let me know if you guys hate or love the way I structure things. I think next chapter I will actually stray away from events of the TV show and work my way into my story as I intended. If not... Sorry guys maybe next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Daryl thrust himself from the wall, rolling his shoulder to rid the kinks. He adjusted as he stood watch in the guard tower. Eyes roaming about the grounds. A walker would linger here and there around the outermost fence but nothing worth alerting the rest of the group about nor wasting an arrow to deal with. The walkers couldn't get in from that fence anyway.

He felt stiff. He'd been standing for several hours and had yet to sleep. He wondered if sleep would even be worth the effort. His mind was filled with so many questions and thoughts he wasn't sure he was allowed to think.

A gentle knock interrupted his overactive mind and he noticed Glenn.

"Go rest up. I'll take it from here."

“Rick, he back yet?” Asked Daryl.

Glenn shook his head. “He hasn't come back. I went to check on him earlier yesterday when you and Maggie went out for formula. He didn't look good.”

“Figured.”

“Yeah...” was all Glenn could mutter back.

Daryl shrugged. There wasn't much that could be done for Rick. Daryl made his way down the tower. He opened the door and stood at its base unsure of what it was he wanted to do. His fingers fidgeted with the strap of his crossbow. The sun was already streaking across the sky.

There was plenty of food left over from the previous night so Daryl felt no need to go out hunting after having done a double. Instead he made his way to the makeshift graveyard that had been made for their dead. He had gotten back so late he didn't have time to pay his respects. The sun was beginning to creep higher and the sun rays warmed his skin as he crossed the dewy field.

Three graves were lined up towards the edge of the field. The dirt mounds were still fresh. The grave marked to the far right was Carol's. Daryl felt a slight weight in his chest as he made his way closer. He rummaged through his vest pocket and pulled out a Cherokee rose that had dried out. He'd found it in Carol's things. It had been the first time he'd ever given a flower to a woman. There had been no romantic intention. It was just his unspoken way of offering comfort to her as she dealt with Sophia's disappearance. His thumb running over the toughened petal, he placed it over her grave smoothing out some of the dirt around the “C” that had been made out of stones. He placed a hand on the makeshift cross. Eyes moving from the flower back to the cross in his hand.

"I'm sorry." Daryl thought as he slowly got up to go. Chewing his lip as he scanned the graves, Daryl tipped his head to them as a sort of salute and turned to leave. It felt like they'd been gone longer. Their group dwindling before his eyes... Was still something hard to accept. Growing accustomed to people only to know they may not be around the next day.

Daryl huffed. He wouldn't be so foolish again.

\--------

Daryl entered the cell-block, keys jangling loudly as he wound his arm through the bars to unlock the door. Everyone was still for the most part asleep besides what sounded like Maggie and Beth. He could hear them softly cooing and making kissy noises at the baby. He snorted at the thought of acting like that towards a baby. He could understand the cooing since it was meant to soothe, but the kissy noise? What was the point? He shrugged. Maybe it was just a woman thing.

He locked the door and made his way to his perch. Daryl laid the crossbow up against the guard rail and set the quiver above his pillow. He sat idly at the top of the stairs. He watched the door. Wasn't sure why. He just wanted to watch the door. Perhaps he thought Rick might amble through or maybe even Carol. He snorted at the last assumption. There was no way she made it out. His eyes moved slowly up and down the bars. The steel was worn from slight rust, bloody finger prints patterned some of them.

Daryl adjusted his gaze to his hands. There was dirt stuck under his nails and small gouges of skin gone at the corners of his thumbs where he'd chewed the skin away. A nervous habit. He figured he'd spent a good chunk of his watch chewing at his thumbs. He only stopped when the skin broke and the bleeding wouldn't stop.

He'd thought about the events of the day. The losses they had suffered. Three people dead in one day. They had never suffered such casualties in one fell swoop. Daryl grit his teeth. No tolerance for outsiders. Not again. The group couldn't suffer any more deaths the way they had yesterday. The threading was beginning to come loose and there was no one to stitch it back together.

At least not now there wasn't. Rick was still somewhere in the depths of the prison either dead or unleashing all his fury on the walker inhabitants. Daryl understood. He probably would have reacted in a similar manner had he had anyone like that to care about. He doubted even Merle would have elicited such a reaction from him. He bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes. Daryl shook his head and adjusted so that he fell onto the bedroll with his arms splayed across it. Fingers curled limply, head nestled in the horse blanket and his feet still on the stairs. He found comfort in the position. Daryl was tired of thinking. Tired of mourning. Tired of being awake. Tired of everything at the moment. He welcomed the limpness in his body and sleep that stole him from the world.

"Daryl? Hey... Daryl...?"

He felt a gentle shake at his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and he sat up on his elbows. His knees felt cramped and stiff. Maybe falling asleep like that wasn't the best idea.

"Hey... We made breakfast, ya'll hungry?" Asked Maggie as she sat next to him.

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows at the girl. The light made him squint. The cell block was obnoxiously bright.

"How long was I out?" He rasped. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, gently messaging his temple in the process.

"Maybe an hour or two?" She said shrugging. "Hard to say."

Daryl sighed. He figured as much. Sleep wasn't a luxury anymore even in something so protected as a prison cell block. Maggie stood to leave. "We made you a plate anyway. You're welcome to join us when you're ready."

He nodded acknowledging he had heard her. Daryl sat up elbows propped on his knees. He rolled his neck in a slow circular motion. The popping sounds of his neck echoed through the block. He felt a bit better having limbered up. He stood and made his way down the stairs and into their makeshift mess-hall. Daryl grabbed the bowl set on the table and sat near Oscar whom had been leaning against a rail. He still wasn't sure of the newcomers but they had helped to bury the dead and secure the perimeter the other day, so that had to mean something. Still he was hesitant about having them around. It went against his best wishes in what he had initially wanted to be upheld: no tolerance for new-comers.

He spooned the mixture of what looked to be oatmeal and took a bite. It warmed his insides and eased his hunger pang a bit, granted he could have gone without the taste. Daryl glanced over at his fellow group mates. Everyone seemed somewhat at ease. His eyes landed on Carl. The boy looked vacant, hollow, as if nothing lived inside him. His eyes were empty and clouded with something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Everybody OK?” He heard Rick call out as he entered the room. Daryl drew his attention from his food to Rick. He'd spent several seconds spooning the meal around in the bowl trying to decide if he was going to eat the rest or not. Daryl glanced back to Rick whom had cleaned up before coming back to the block. The wild look was still in his eyes, but less crazed as it had been before.

“Cleared out the boiler block.”

Daryl quirked a curious eyebrow at Rick's statement. This fascinated Daryl. They hadn't even ventured into that area. There were probably a good handful of walkers down there. "How many were there?” he asked curious.

“Not sure... a dozen or two? I don't know. Just... wanted to make sure Carl was fine.” he said and patted the boy on the shoulder.

“We're going to sweep the lower levels. Axel's down in the generator room, fixing it up in case of emergency.” Reported Daryl.

Rick nodded and strode out of the block. Daryl hadn't even blinked and he had been gone. Rick was like a ghost. His tone had been calm but rigid and commanding. His body language tense. Daryl figured that there were still things left for him to do before he would come back to the group. Best to leave him be.

Daryl grudgingly finished his food and stood up. “Let's get a move on. Y'all hurry up.” he said as he went to retrieve his crossbow and flashlight.

Daryl hoisted his crossbow across his shoulder and adjusted the strap so it laid comfortably against his back as he moved about. He grabbed the flashlight that he'd pocketed their first night in the block. He made his way down the stairs and saw Oscar and Carl waiting for him. Both had their guns holstered and a knife tucked into a sheath at their hips.

He nodded. "Alright, let's sweep."

Daryl led the way. He slipped the crossbow from his back into a cocked, ready position. Thumbing the button of the flashlight on, propping it beneath the fore-grip of the bow for optimal reaction time. No knowing what was hidden in these depths.

"Stay close." He whispered as they moved together as a unit. Oscar backing up the rear with Carl in the middle overlooking both front and back. As they made their way through the halls, they occasionally heard a low growl and would methodically take the walker out in a silent but effective manner. It almost always meant Daryl taking the shot with his crossbow and following up with a swift knife to the skull. If there was more than one, Daryl and Carl took the shots. They would then pause briefly to see if the noise of Carl's makeshift silencer drew nearby walkers to them. If after a moment or two there was no sound to indicate movement, they continued on.

After sweeping through a corridor of walkers, they fanned out a bit to check the closed doors. Oscar took the area that they had come from while Daryl and Carl moved towards the end of the hall. The boy was quiet the entire time. He acted a machine. On point. Executing every trigger pull with nothing attached. It was like Carl was just a shell. Daryl had lowered his crossbow at this point and was stalking the rooms with acute observation. Quietly tugging doors open and peeking inside, listening for shuffling and grunting. Carl stood in place head hung low.

Daryl whistled at him drawing his attention. Carl looked up. He was troubled. He'd lost his mother. He hadn't heard the details since Maggie didn't want to talk about it and Carl wasn't speaking either.

“My mom, she liked to smoke in bed,” he said walking and scanning the hall with his flashlight, peering around doors. Daryl looked over his shoulder, Carl followed. “I could play with the other kids when Merle wasn't around. We heard sirens... wanted to see what was goin' on. They had bikes. I didn't.”

They turned a corridor. Oscar's footsteps softly echoed behind them. Daryl continued on. “I ran after them. Couldn't keep up, rounded the corner and saw my friends all lookin' at me... hell everyone was... It was my house everyone was at. My mom burned to nothing. Just erased... gone. It seemed like it just wasn't real... ya know?”

Carl sighed and then spoke. “I shot my mom. I ended it. It was real for me.”

Daryl looked at Carl stunned by his statement. He wasn't really sure what to think of it. He'd simply retold his memory to try and ease the boy out of his catatonic state, but somehow he'd only seemed to make it worse. Carl's situation had been far more traumatic since he had been the one to shoot her. Daryl grimaced and looked to the ground.

“I'm sorry about your mom.” replied Carl, head hung low, eyes hidden beneath the brim of the Sheriff's hat.

He hadn't expected to hear Carl apologize for his own mother. The strength in him was amazing. Daryl admired this in the youngster. For one so young, he kept himself grounded with ease and made the calculated decisions that were optimal for most situations. Yet, Daryl felt sorry for him too. He would never really know what it was like to grow up causing mischief with friends around the city, meeting girls, or go to college. Things most people did in a non-apocalyptic world. Himself not included in those stereotypes he'd imagined. He was just a dirty redneck working laborious jobs on construction sites or under the hood of a car. Daryl had known since he was knee high that he would never amount to anything. He believed it.

Daryl shifted from where he stood and tried to look under the hat brim shaking off his bitter recollection of his Daddy. Carl's head tilted up and he made eye contact with Daryl. There. That's what he'd been seeing. The remorse and anguish of having caused his Father so much pain. Probably recalling all the times he had acted out and disrespected his Mother. Daryl didn't really know how to say what he wanted to tell the boy. He didn't know how to tell Carl that what he did wasn't his fault and that he shouldn't dwell on the past. That what he did had to be done. All Daryl could muster out was, “Sorry 'bout yours.” Carl winced back his crying then nodded him.

“C'mon.” said Daryl and gave Carl a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. He'd grown accustomed to Rick's offspring. Carl wasn't as much of a pest as he had previously been. Rebelling against being treated like a child and not staying put when told to stay in the house had been habits of his that he'd been notorious for. More or less the staying put would rear its ugly head and take heed of the groups' better wishes; on more account than one it had been a factor in increasing their survival.

The group walked in silence making their way down another hall continuing their sweep. No walkers yet. Suddenly Daryl heard Oscar gasp and head into a cell. Carl and Daryl followed after and watched as Oscar scooped up a pair of brown slippers. For the end of the day, he'd said. Daryl just kind of arched a quizzical eyebrow at him as if he were crazy. End of the day relaxation? Was that even plausible?

A loud hiss and growl pulled him from his thoughts and he immediately drew his crossbow up and fired an arrow into the oncoming walker's skull. Carl and Oscar following suit with a few gunshots. The walker fell backwards and the group let out a collected sigh. Daryl grinned at the unison in which they'd killed it. His heart still furiously beating against his chest from the rush of adrenaline, Daryl took a step forward and shined the walker with the flashlight.

Daryl's expression changed as he knelt near the body. A knife had been rammed under the neck and stuck defiantly into the jowl of the thing. He cautiously pulled the knife, blood spurting out from the vessel that had been severed. He immediately recognized it as he turned it over in his hands. His breath caught in his throat.

“That's Carol's knife.” He said as he eyed the weapon. She's alive? He wondered as he wiped the blade clean on the walker's jumpsuit. Daryl brought the handle to his chin in contemplation. Eyes still transfixed on the body and the wound he'd pulled the knife from. It had been wedged rather deep and wasn't an easy pull. Carol must have used enough force to have knocked it down allotting her time to get away, but that was just a hopeful assumption.

Maybe she wasn't. They'd already swept through the entire level and hadn't come across anything alive or anyone for the matter. She couldn't have survived long enough to make it out alive.

Daryl stood up, eyes boring holes into the body. He gave the dead walker a swift kick with his boot and barked, "Lets go. We're through here."

\--------

Daryl sat cross legged on the ground and thrust Carol's knife into the cold cement. His hand covering his eyes in anguished thought, Daryl sat fuming a storm. He had sent Carl and Oscar back with the rest of the group while he dealt with the weak walker in the broom closet. This had been their final walker and he had offered to take care of it while they handled the remaining chores for the day. He had kept the knife. Daryl had probably examined the damned thing maybe a hundred times before getting frustrated and ramming the knife into the ground. Did that mean she was still alive? Or as a result of her trying to get away had that been her last thrust of survival?

He stabbed the ground again letting out a frustrated sigh. Daryl snorted through his nostrils, anger slowly rising with each slam of the knife into the ground. It angered him more that he didn't know what happened to her. That there was no real evidence of her escaping or her just dead somewhere in the tombs. Also that that fucking door kept getting pushed open with the most timid of force.

They'd found the knife after making a sweep of the lower levels, which Rick had already gone through himself the previous few days. They hadn't found the knife the day the walkers had been let loose into the prison yard. Had she still been alive then? Carol wasn't completely defenseless as she used to be. She'd learned to use a gun and was taught small close-quarters knife thrusts, but not a whole lot to survive more than one walker at a time. Had she and T-Dog been overrun? Stupid question. It was obvious that they had. T-Dog was dead.

The door groaned as it cracked open but then shut. Daryl thrust the knife into the floor with more force again. He adjusted his grip on the knife handle. Wiggling his fingers loosely then tightly gripping it for another stab into the ground.

He clenched his teeth. What was the big deal? Why did he care so much about whether she was alive or dead? Why? What had she done for him to make him care so much for her? Was it the way she smiled at him from across a room to acknowledge him without ever saying a word? Was it that she was constantly making sure he had something in his belly even when food was scarce and he'd rather go without for the sake of everyone else? Was it that she could always be heard saying: be safe, as he left to hunt? Or was it that she made him feel like he was part of a family? That she made him feel like he belonged and was worth something to these people?

What was it? Why won't that damned walker come through the fucking door already so he could kill it? Daryl stabbed the ground and thrust hard into the wall behind him. Another slam into the wall. He stood up and slammed his boot into the door as hard as he could. He paced up the hall and then down the hall. He was prepping himself in the event there was more than just one or in the even it was ravenous bitten Carol. Daryl's breathing came in haggard breaths. He wasn't afraid of the walkers, but at the same time he was. They were devastating creatures. He knew the limitless extent of their carnage.

He paced past the door, glanced at it one last time. Daryl put the handle of the knife in his mouth and jerked the corpse of the walker body keeping the door shut out of the way. He felt like a feral animal with his pacing and the sudden rush of anger as he threw the walker body from being any more obtrusive than it already was. He was going to lose it if he had to hear that door open and shut one more time. His keys jangled at his hip as he threw the door open and he quickly swapped back to the knife.

Daryl stopped, his breath hitched. He had been in the process of swinging the knife into the skull of the walker inhabitant of the room, but felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He wasn't quite sure what he was seeing. Carol weakly turned to look at him. He blinked back his anger which was replaced with concern, his mouth fell agape. Daryl hesitated, knife still poised to attack. He stepped forward letting out a choked gasp. Daryl cocked his head, peering around Carol. She was alone. He took her chin in his hand, turned her head from side to side. No bites. She pursed her lips, creasing her eyebrows as if in pain. Grime covered her face and clothes and he could see her chest heaving in slow shallow breaths. Daryl quickly sheathed the knife and pulled Carol out of the room into a sitting position against the wall.

Daryl slung his crossbow around his shoulder. He moved so fast Carol did not realize that she was cradled in his arms. She wound her arm around his neck, her fingers twisting sweaty wisps of his hair. Gingerly he stepped around the bodies that lay at his feet careful not to move Carol too much. Her eyes would flutter open and then shut. A small feeble smile tugging at her lips. Daryl's eyes shifted from the woman in his arms then back to the path to the cell block and then back to her.

His heart felt heavy and a lump itched its way into his throat. "'m sorry." He whispered.

Carol rubbed her thumb against the nape of his neck. Daryl ushered a weak crooked smile at her. Words needn't be said. She understood and accepted his apology. Why he was apologizing she wasn't sure of, but hearing his voice again calmed her down.

She had never been so glad to hear Daryl Dixon's voice in all her life. He'd found her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support! I appreciate it. Still haven't left the TV show just yet. I'm setting everything up still. Trying to work off the present chemistry so I have something established. Really, I don't want to take Carol and Daryl's characters out of character. I don't want them rushing into a relationship and being all lovey dovey. I don't see their love like that. It's slow and diligent. So what I'm really trying to say is sorry it's taking me so long to get to the point of my story. Thank you for waiting and hopefully I can get this story underway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Daryl sat inside the cell with Carol. He'd gotten her to drink and tried to spoon a few mouthfuls of leftover food into her mouth, but she'd refused. He didn't blame her. He didn't quite enjoy the taste either, but in their current situation you couldn't be picky. She'd been in and out of consciousness for most of an hour. Carol would blindly reach out for something and Daryl would quickly grab it for her. Usually it was the bottle of water he'd brought for her. He'd carefully tilt her head up and put the bottle to her lips. Carol would then drink what little she wanted, then fall asleep and Daryl would sit cross legged across from her in idle wait. He was hesitant to leave his vigil. Honestly, he couldn't wrap his head around the idea that he had found her intact and not in pieces.

The entire time he had sat mulling over whether or not to open the door of that broom closet, he feared he would find her remains inside with a walker gnawing on one of her bones or a Carol-turned-walker. He had shuddered at the thought of having to kill her if she was in the process of turning or had been one of those things upon opening the door. He hadn't the heart to do it when they'd found Sophia... And he wouldn't do it then either.

If you expect the worse, you can never really be disappointed. In this case, he had been dead wrong. She had looked so weak and frail it made him furious that it had taken him so long to find her. Daryl partially blamed himself that he hadn't stalked the halls like he had intentioned that night, but to everyone's chagrin they had wanted him there on the block and so he stayed much to his dismay. Carol might not have been found in such poor condition had he just ignored the others' request and done what he wanted like he usually did. He was still much better on his own.

Carol moved, rolling onto her back. Daryl stood up from sitting, feeling his legs begin to cramp. The pins and needles feeling making their way through his calf and down into his toes. Daryl tried shaking out the feeling as he moved closer to Carol and noticed how dirty she looked. Blood splotches and grime plastered her skin. She was almost on par with himself. Dirt streaked across her blood-pocked face. Daryl took the rag from his back pocket and put a corner to his parched mouth, trying to moisten it as best he could with his spit. He began to try and dab as much of the muck off without waking her. He managed to get a few stains out of her cheeks before Carol shifted again. Daryl suddenly felt aware of what he'd been doing. Embarrassed, he pocketed the rag and sat back down. He stared at the ground covering his eyes with his hand.

He felt quite uneasy with everything right now. Daryl's chest felt tight and his palms were clamming up as if he were nervous. He simply felt awkward babysitting Carol realizing that he had been fussing over her like a mother-hen. He clicked his tongue against his teeth and stood up once more. This was becoming absurd. He decided he had had enough of, well, whatever it was he was doing and made his way for the entrance of the cell.

“Daryl.”

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Carol had sat up, her legs swung over the side of the bed. “Don't get up, you'll fall down.” he said and took another step towards the door.

“Where are you going?” she weakly asked. Carol stood up, her knees buckled and she fell forward.

Daryl rushed forward and grabbed her. She fell into his chest, knocking him back a bit. He braced himself, planting his foot behind him to balance the weight. Carol could hear him grunt in frustration. She made brief eye contact with him. A fierce look crossed his features etched with concern. Daryl quickly looked away. He grabbed her firmly by the shoulders and moved her back to the bed. He knew she would try something like that, but wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt that she would actually go through with it.

“What did I just say? Si' down.” he snapped.

Carol looked confused and hurt by his change in attitude. Why so suddenly was he being cold? She knew he'd told her not to get up, but she didn't think he'd get that upset over her wanting to move about after being stuck in a broom closet for two days straight. More specifically she didn't want to be alone. She'd been alone too long in the dark. She pursed her lips at him, trying to form words.

Daryl let out a long drawn out sigh and spoke first. “Look, I didn't bring y'all back here so you could fall down and knock yerself out.”

He eyed her carefully. Carol's expression softened. She understood what he was trying to say even if what he was saying wasn't what he really meant. Daryl nodded at her and exited the cell. “Holler if you need somethin'. I'll be up on my perch.” He called as he left.

Carol sat in the cell alone despite her inclination to follow after him. She stared at where Daryl had left. She noticed on the ground lay Daryl's red grease rag. It must have fallen out of his pocket as he had moved in to catch her. She reached out to pick it up trying not to lean too far over and fall out of the bed face first. Carol rubbed her fingers over the cloth feeling the fabric. She could see the edges where it had become frayed from extensive use. Likely been used to clean himself or others, maybe even remove dirt and grime from his arrows. She wasn't sure. It had seen it's fair share of use. Her fingers skimmed a small moist circle in the cloth. Smudges of what looked to be blood and dirt accented the circular spot. Carol recalled feeling gentle massaging against her face as she laid in the bed earlier.

She furrowed an eyebrow at the rag in her hands. Had Daryl tried to clean her up while she had been sleeping? She had thought it was just a figment of her imagination, but apparently not. Daryl was often very rigid, but sometimes he would let slip his gentler side showing that he cared. A small smile crept onto her lips. Carol pulled her legs up and laid back down on the bed, tucking the rag into her pocket. She fell asleep with the smile still present.

\--

Daryl sat perched on a rail watching the cell-block. His eyes would linger on each cell for a moment but would always fall on the cell occupied by Carol. He couldn't keep his gaze focused from anything but that particular cell. Daryl was still mulling over the previous encounter with her.

He'd snapped for no real reason. He had just been concerned for her safety and didn't want her getting hurt again. Daryl did not know how to voice that concern without getting angry or frustrated. He had never been one to discuss his feelings with another person let alone allow them to know how he felt. Daryl had grown up with Merle as an older brother and that was reason enough to keep things bottled inside. Anything beyond anger and frustration or the thrill of a challenge were feelings for the weak or women.

Daryl had never agreed with that rationality though. He did agree with the notion that feelings got in the way of the task at hand and made a man think sloppily. He was starting to find himself following that path with this group. Reason being? They made him feel needed. Like he was worth something to them. Daryl had always believed that these city-people would never accept him and would eventually just kick him to the curb. That never happened.

Rick had made Daryl his second-in-command. Everything Rick did, Daryl followed without question. It was often that Rick would look to him for an opinion on what to do next. Daryl was never particularly good at expressing what he thought, but either through a simple nod or gentle disapproving shake of his head got the point across to Rick what he thought of the current situation. He figured since Rick was able to read him without having to ask a single question, Daryl felt understood and acknowledged that that was something worth standing by his side for.

Despite any and all anger Daryl had held for Rick over having handcuffed Merle to the rooftop, he'd accepted that shit happened. Merle had left of his own accord. He'd believed that Daryl wasn't coming back. It was something only a Dixon would do. Always out for themselves until they were with kin. Blood is thicker than water, but Daryl supposed that Merle had only been looking out for his own survival. He would have done the same thing. Maybe not saw off his own hand, but he would have found a way to get loose without hindering his mobility. Especially in this kind of world, you needed every body limb intact.

Daryl's thoughts were interrupted by the clanging sound of keys and a bunch of voices sounding off all at once. He hopped off the railing, hearing Rick's voice from the next room. A grin spread thinly across his lips. This would be perfect. Daryl strode into Carol's cell and gently nudged her shoulder.

“Hey...” he said softly. "Sit up."

Carol awoke and rolled over to look at Daryl with sleepy eyes. She positioned herself on her back and watched as Daryl left the cell. After a moment she could hear several footsteps making their way towards her cell. Daryl led the way followed by Rick. She sat up as he looked at her in disbelief to Daryl then back at her. Rick was speechless. Carol felt herself smiling and she got up, using the bunk bar for support. She reached out towards Rick who had moved in close and pulled her into an embrace. She felt Rick squeeze her tight and Carol couldn't help but squeeze him back just as tight relishing in the moment.

Daryl stood at the frame of the cell and observed the reunion. He bit his lower lip trying to hide back his grin. He felt proud in some twisted way as if he had reinvigorated the spirit of the group. His eyes shifted rapidly to Hershel who had moved in to hug Carol. He adjusted keeping a careful eye on her.

“Fought her way into a cell. Musta passed out from dehydration.” He rasped still observing the festivities. The merry atmosphere abruptly changed. Carol took one look at Beth holding their newest member and clamped a hand to her mouth when she realized Lori was nowhere to be seen. She looked to Rick who was blinking back his tears.

She reached out to Rick pulling his head close to her face, tears making their way down her cheeks as she whispered, “I am so sorry.” She rubbed his cheek trying to offer comfort in the gesture. Carol had seen the mistiness in his eyes at the resurface of his emotional wounds. She hadn't meant to make him think back on that, but she did and she was terribly sorry for having done so. She saw Carl standing near Daryl. He was trying not to cry, his lower lip trembling with the sobs he wanted to let out. Trying to be a big boy and keep his mourning at bay. What a strong and sad boy, she thought as she moved closer to Beth.

Carol opened her arms to Beth wanting to hold the baby. Beth handed the infant over to Carol who couldn't help but let out a joyful sob. The baby was beautiful with big blue eyes and a wisp of hair at the top. Holding her made her think of when she had held Sophia for the first time. She smiled again and another sob escaped her lips.

Daryl couldn't help but be transfixed by the whole thing. She looked so placid and at home with the baby in her arms. Carol had always been motherly and nurturing, but the way she cradled the infant in her arms, it almost seemed like she was glowing with a motherly fervor. Like the baby she held was hers.

“What's her name?” Asked Carol, removing her attention from the baby girl.

Beth coughed and squeaked out, “No one's really found a name for her.”

Daryl snorted in protest. “What're ya drabblin' about? Her name is Lil Asskicker.”

Carol scrunched her face up and let out a small chuckle. “I'm pretty sure 'asskicker' is far from what she'll be doing anytime soon, Daryl.”

Daryl wrinkled his nose and huffed, "Look at that grip she's got. Rip yer arm outta its socket if you gave her the chance.”

Carol rolled her eyes at his comment. She turned and smiled at Daryl tears still making their way down her cheeks as she held Asskicker. He couldn't help it, but he gave her a tiny smirk in return. This was one of those moments that was worth fighting and living for in this new world they lived in.

\-----

Carol took after him. He was preparing for the mission they were about to embark on. From what the woman Michonne had said, Woodbury was well-armed and dangerous. The chances of all of them returning back alive was starting to really set in. Carol didn't want to see Daryl go. The thought of something happening to him and her not being there scared her.

"Daryl, wait." She called after him. He'd left the comfort of his perch and had headed outside to where the prison yard was. He had wanted to leave the comfort of everyone behind and collect himself before they set out to retrieve Glenn and Maggie. It wouldn't be a simple run in and run out type mission. Shit could go South and he needed to be ready for when and if it did. He heard Carol call out for him, but he had ignored her hoping she would give up and go back to the cell block. She didn't. Daryl wanted to get a good long breath out before facing Carol. He wasn't sure why he was bracing himself, but it felt like one of those moments to him. It was a moment he felt where things were going to be said and things were going to be mistook and things were going to be broken. It was one of those moments. Daryl was never good with those kinds of moments. He always shut himself off when that happened.

"Whadd'ya want?" He drawled, hands on his hips as he turned to face her.

Carol wrinkled her nose at him. "What? I can't say that I want you to be safe? To come back whole?"

Daryl snorted at her question. He shut his eyes shaking his head and chuckled a bit. He found her griping amusing. "I ain't goin' anywhere."

Carol didn't find any of this funny. She was glowering at him now. How could Daryl just laugh the matter off? This was a serious issue. Woodbury wasn't just a few men with pistols. It was a large group of people with high-powered assault rifles and the numbers to back them up.

"You're not invincible, Daryl Dixon. What makes you think nothing will happen to you? Or anyone else?" She asked.

Daryl dropped his hands from their positions. He scowled. He wasn't sure what to say to her. He already knew he wasn't invincible. He knew that first hand when he'd been knocked unconscious and awoke to find a walker gnawing on the toe of his boot. It had been a very close call.

"Yeah... And?"

"And what?" Asked Carol. He was answering her like a child. She didn't like that and assumed he hadn't either since he moved close to her face.

"What do you want from me? Huh?" He asked. Daryl's eyes had narrowed at the question and Carol could feel his hot breath on her lips from his close proximity.

She could feel butterflies starting to bat around in her stomach. She gulped and tried to form her words carefully. Carol adjusted her gaze from Daryl's steely blue eyes to the rag she had been wringing in her hands. Daryl could bolt at any second. Being close to people wasn't something that came naturally to him, however, she and him had already crossed that threshold. They'd already pushed buttons that would cause the other to just cut all ties, but they didn't. They somehow still stuck together despite all their verbal tussles. She had to say something.

"I... want you... to come back... safe..." She looked up at Daryl this time. A look of slight shook etched its way into his current scowl. He had not been expecting her to say something like that. To really care so much for his safe return. He only assumed she said it because it was easier than saying: good-bye every time he left. Just something said out of necessity.

Daryl backed off a bit. He cocked his head at her as he began to chew the inside of his cheek. Carol could feel his eyes focus in on her. Daryl was studying her for some sort of answer. Perhaps maybe to see if she was being genuine. Carol wasn't sure. She sensed that he had never been told such similar words. She knew Daryl had been abused such as she had, but the extent of that damage on him was starting to show through his tough exterior.

“Can you do that for me?” Carol meekly asked.

Carol had grown accustomed to having Daryl around. She enjoyed his presence even if it was a rather quiet one. He had been the only one to truly keep hope that he would find Sophia or even offer that consolation to her when she desperately needed it. Everyone else had all but given up. Daryl wasn't a quitter. He'd be the last man standing if it came to that. He was that much of a survivor that Daryl would do whatever was in his power to live. He had offered that will power to finding Sophia, but... unfortunately he had been too late.

Daryl spoke. "Yer wastin' your time on me. I ain' worth a lick of what life you've got."

Carol bit her bottom lip. "Daryl... Please don't say things you don't mean." She moved towards him and touched his hand.

Daryl quickly recoiled from the touch. He looked at her unsure of whether that had been the proper reaction. In that moment, he knew it was not. He had hurt Carol. She had only wanted to get close to him and he'd closed himself off.

Daryl huffed in exasperation bringing the heels of his palms to his eyes. "Ugh, I'm no good at this junk. I really fuckin' ain't." His scowl deepened as he started pacing. Carol blinked at him curiously. He was a torrent of mixed emotions spilling out. As quickly as he could be calm and collected, he could instantly slip into a rage-filled chasm and bark out the most hurtful things. Where was this sudden self-doubt coming from?

She let out a long sigh and glanced at Daryl. “I'm sorry, Daryl. I shouldn't put this on you like this since you're leaving.” He stopped his pacing and removed his hands from the constant raking of his hair like he had wanted to yank the chunks he had fisted out.

He focused in on her. “What?” he asked confused.

“Forget that I ever said anything. Just come back. That's all I ask.”

Daryl stared at the ground in contemplation. His eyes were moving back and forth rapidly as if he were reading an invisible book. He let his eyes fall back to her and he started to move his lips to form words, but quickly shut his mouth turning his back to Carol. He kicked a rock across the yard and finally uttered, “I ain't promisin' anythin'.”

Daryl slowly turned to look at Carol curious to see her reaction, but noticed she was fidgeting with something in her hands. Carol saw his gaze fall to the grease rag she clutched tightly. She felt slightly embarrassed that he had caught her with his rag in her hands. It had been something of comfort to have with her as she talked with him.

"Oh! You dropped this earlier." She said and offered it back to Daryl. He hesitantly grabbed it and put it back into his pocket.

"Was wonderin' where I left it. Didn't take you for a pickpocket." He said smirking at her.

"Beware, I'm a stealer of nail files and dirty rags."

There was a brief pause before Daryl chuckled at her joke and looked back at Carol, their gazes meeting one another's. He saw the concerned expression written in her eyes. He had just found her when she had believed all hope was lost and now he had to leave. He understood where she was coming from. Daryl had been her rock. Always was. He had been the only person to really try to comfort her and bring her back to the group when she had wanted to pull away. To have him leave and have no clue of whether or not he was coming back was a scary thought. If he could offer up some sort of comfort it would be to just utter a few words.

"I'll come back." Their eyes met for a moment. Carol's eyes were searching his face, rapidly moving over his facial features. Perhaps seeking out if what he was saying was just something to ease her worries, but Daryl knew that he had meant it whether she believed him or not. After a few seconds of this, Carol smiled and nodded. That's all she wanted. All she really needed to hear from him. Her eyes seemed to light up.

This pleased him.

“C'mon, let's head back.” He said and ushered her back to the cell-block.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes! Finally deviating away from the TV show. After watching Episode 10, I was thoroughly happy with the way things played out. And was even more ecstatic that my idea wasn't the same as how the show happened. So kudos to that. I won't give away my idea, but fingers-crossed that I can get my idea out. Or at the very least establish my plot design to get these two together after so many chapters. These two are so complicated and I love it. Also I have changed the set up of events that occur too, so keep that in mind while reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Carol clenched her jaw shut. She frantically cupped her hand to her forehead as she looked through the tinted windows of the green SUV trying to block out the harsh Georgia sun from obstructing her view. Glenn and Michonne sat in the back worse for wear. Maggie had moved to the driver's seat and was getting ready to drive the car up to the prison yard. Rick was already out of the car and on a direct path to her.

"Where's Daryl?" She asked trying to withhold her urgency. Carol had to know.

"Alive. He found Merle. They went on their way."

Carol blinked back her tears. She bit her lip, barely managing to ask, "So he's gone?"

Rick looked to his boots, fingers hooked into his belt loops. He nodded and hesitantly glanced at her. He could see the crushed look on her face. She stifled her sob and made her way off the path. Rick tried to put a reassuring hand to her shoulder, but Carol vehemently jerked away from his comforting advance. He followed, catching up quickly with her pace, grabbing her arm and pulling Carol into an embrace. She relented and hugged him back, letting out small sobs. Rick quietly ran his fingers through her cropped hair, trying to soothe her, instinctively kissing her forehead and whispering, "It's OK. Daryl will be fine." All the while, Rick rocked back and forth with Carol in his arms.

Rick's eyes raced back and forth. Everything was falling apart before him. It was different having one of your own leave of their own accord. It was always death that they made their way out; never something a person sanely chose to do. Daryl leaving as he had seemed so much worse. Rick had seen the look in Daryl's eyes as he cast one last glance behind his shoulder to see the people he was leaving behind. Carol and Rick both understood though: Daryl had obligations to uphold. Merle was his kin. The only other person he had left in this world. For the past year, from what he had known, he was alone. Daryl had no clue that Merle was still alive. He had just accepted the idea that Merle had been lost and would rather let it be that way than believing he was somewhere dead in a ditch. Now that Merle was alive, Daryl wasn't going to lose that kinship for a second time.

Carol sucked in her lip, trying to withhold her sobs, and somberly let go of Rick. This couldn't be any easier for him. He had already lost Lori and now the last little bit of a support system he had was gone. As much as Daryl had denied that he had a place in their ragtag family, they desperately needed him. They were definitely going to feel it.

\--

Carol lay in her bunk staring at the horse blanket that lay bundled with the things Daryl had left behind on the floor. She'd moved everything from his perch and into her cell. Lori's things had been ruefully shoved underneath the bunk. She felt it would be cruel to leave her things out in the open for Carl and Rick to see. They had already suffered enough. Daryl's things, on the other hand, she didn't have the heart to hide. It pained her to even collect them.

She'd folded what articles of clothing Daryl had left behind neatly in his bags. They had been methodically folded in a particular way already, but she felt that she needed to fold them anyway. Carol was surprised that his clothes had even been folded at all. She didn't wash Daryl's clothes. No. She refused to do that. Carol wanted to keep his scent close. If she washed his clothes, they would just be regular, ordinary mens clothes. She didn't want to erase the last little bit of Daryl that was left in the prison.

Carol felt like she was in mourning. Keeping his things and refusing to clean them, it sounded crazy the more she thought about it in her head. But no, that wasn't it at all. This was much deeper than that. Daryl wasn't dead. He was alive and out in the open with no shelter and only a handful of bolts left to defend himself with.

Sure, he was with Merle, but how long would it be before they were outnumbered and outmatched by a horde of walkers? Merle from what she knew had cut off his own hand so he was rather limited in his defensive capabilities. Daryl wouldn't use a gun unless he knew the noise wouldn't attract anymore than there already were. His crossbow took time to reload and to swap another bolt and load it could waste precious time he didn't have. But he had his large buck knife. That would help him in close situations, but... What if in that moment he was getting swarmed with too many to handle at once? Daryl was only one man. He wasn't invincible as she had stated that last day she had spoken to him.

They had argued in the prison yard but it was nothing to hold a grudge over or be bitter about. Both Carol and Daryl had made their points clear and without really saying anything they had established that they cared about the well-being of the other. She knew that when he had told her to stay safe, what he really was telling her was: I care. And that gentle touch at her shoulder. He had said all that he had meant in that one brief physical contact.

It surprised her that he had even reached out and touched her in that manner. For someone so afraid of physical proximity, that had been something beyond his own natural comfort zone. She had smiled then as she was doing so right that second in the dark. Daryl had given her one last glance over his shoulder and that had been the last she had seen of him; a crooked tug at the corner of his lip and glean of his blue eyes under his messy crop of hair as he walked away.

Carol tightly shut her eyes. Daryl had only been gone a few days, yet it seemed like weeks. She shivered in bed, the thin sheet wrapped tightly around her body. As hot as it could get in the day, the cold Georgia nights bit into her flesh like knives within the prison. Her gaze fell to Daryl's blanket. The bright pattern stood out amongst the gloomy blue of the prison walls. Carol threw herself off the bed and snatched the blanket up, wrapping herself in it. The way she had grabbed for it seemed like at any moment the blanket would just disappear before her.

She remembered the night she'd been sitting by the fire and he'd given her the blanket. Carol didn't really expect him to offer it up as quickly as he had or at all for the matter. It just seemed second-nature to him the way he had so nonchalantly pulled it from his quiver and gestured for her to drape it around her shoulders. Carol stifled a laugh as she recalled the irritation cross his features as she had sat dumbfounded by his kindness. He gave her this look that said: take the stupid thing or else.

Carol clutched her chest. She felt like her breath had been stolen from her lungs. Her eyebrows furrowed in pain. It hurt so much not knowing if he was doing all right out in the woods. She swore under her breath and gripped the blanket in her hands.

"Damn you, Daryl." She whispered.

\--

Carol saw the graves from the binoculars of the guard tower. She had taken guard duty with Axel. He had chattered away half the afternoon about his life, the things he had done before prison, the things he did while in prison, and things he wanted to do now that he was a free man. Carol had idly listened while scanning the horizon hoping to see the flicker of orange and yellow from a crossbow bolt. She hoped she would see Daryl trudging back to the prison, crossbow slung over his shoulder and backpack strapped to his back with squirrel or possum skins clinging to his belt.

Daryl never stumbled out of the tree line.

"You follow me?" Asked Axel as he gently shook her shoulder.

Carol jerkily nodded in agreement.

"I can shut up if you want. You seem like you've got somethin' on yer mind." He replied.

Carol feebly smiled. "You could say that."

Axel ran his fingers along his mustache, brushing the stray whiskers back in place "Was it that redneck fellow? Ya know, that one with the bike?"

Carol smiled weakly. "He's a dear friend of mine. I just hope he's all right out there."

Axel paused for a second before responding to Carol. "Fellers like him won't die so easily. Put up a fight, ya know. A snarl of fisticuffs and cussing till they're put in their grave."

A soft rap at the door interrupted their conversation. Carl and Maggie came through the door indicating their shift was over. Axel ushered Carol out first with a gentlemanly curtsy. Carol rolled her eyes and went down the stairs anyway. Axel started chattering again. The man could talk. He seemed to have a story for everything. She supposed this a change compared to the quiet that usually encompassed the prison.

Carol stepped out of the guard tower base. Axel stood next to her. "I'm going to take a walk." She said.

"Where we walking to?" He quickly asked, clapping his hands together.

Carol quirked an eyebrow at him. "I said 'I' was going to go for walk. I'd like time for myself if you don't mind. It's nothing personal."

"Oh! I understand, m'am. I follow ya. I'll just go back to the yard. You sure you don't..." Carol arched her eyebrow at him to indicate there would be no debating the issue. Axel threw his hands up and quickly replied, "Fair enough."

He made his way back to the prison, occasionally glancing back at her. Carol stifled a chuckle. Axel seemed a puppy dog with her. It was comforting but at the same time so suffocatingly annoying. When Axel was out of view Carol made her way the graves she had spied in the binoculars. With all the hustle and bustle of the previous days' events, she had yet to really meander beyond the prison yard. She was curious to see for whom the graves were for.

As Carol got closer to the graves she noticed that there weren't just two marked graves as she had assumed would be sitting there, but three. For whom else had they made a grave for? Had they made one for her? Her assumption was confirmed when she saw the stoney "C" imbedded into the final grave of the row. There had been an "L" and a "T" made for their other group mates. It was rather unnerving seeing her grave with the cross and... the flower?

Carol hesitated as she went to kneel next to her grave. Her fingers gently brushed the dirt off the white petals of the Cherokee rose that lay in the middle of the stones. Her hand flew to her mouth and she choked back her sobbing. Why did he do this to her? She picked up the flower and hugged it to her chest.

\---

The morning was filled with tension. They'd found out that walkers had been in the barn, but nothing could be done about it. They were guests on Hershel's land and he had insisted on handling their walker situation. Shane had been the one to urge the group to deal with it now or leave for Fort Benning like they had initially planned.

They couldn't just leave. Sophia was still out there. Shane had stifled a manic chuckle at her mention of staying.

Daryl stepped in. He was defending her. Perhaps defending himself too since he was at the helm of the search. Carol was grateful for him in that moment. She needed an ally in that moment. Carol understood that the first 48 hours were crucial to finding a missing child, Shane had told her that numerous times as if the more he said it the more she would stop hassling them over finding Sophia. But she had people out in the Georgia woods combing through brush trying to find her. She had Daryl searching for her. He was an expert tracker. He'd managed to find Sophia's doll, which was more than Rick or Shane could say they'd found to offer in hope of her safe return.

In seconds, it was like two snarling wolves and Carol was removed from her thoughts. Daryl and Shane were trying to get at each other. Words had been exchanged. Shane must have said something to anger Daryl or else he wouldn't have been keen on getting at him in the first place. Rick and Andrea had stepped in to put distance between the two. Carol reached out and touched Daryl's arm trying to reiterate to step back. He shirked away her touch trying to lunge himself closer. Shane was still fired up and snapped at Lori who had then put a hand to his chest to prevent him from getting any closer to Rick, whom was still trying to push Daryl away.

Sensing that nothing would be resolved, Daryl glared at Shane as he backed away, relenting for the time being. He stormed off in a huff leaving the group to collect their thoughts and find a compromise on the barn situation. Carol had watched as Daryl clutched at his side. He must have strained himself trying to maneuver around the arms and hands keeping him from launching himself at Shane. She had followed after him wanting to make sure he was OK. For someone as injured as himself, he moved fast; you would never know he was hurt if he didn't wince in pain occasionally.

Carol had seen Daryl stalk into the stalls, throwing open the shed to grab a saddle. Seen how he had fumbled with it and sluggishly made his way towards the stalls to ready a horse. He was on his way to search for Sophia again. Carol couldn't allow Daryl to risk his life anymore than he already had. Daryl had already hurt himself trying to find the only real piece of hard evidence since her disappearance.

Carol followed after him. Saw as he swore under his breath as he tossed the saddle onto the hitch.

"You need to rest. You're going to get hurt again."

"Yeah, well I don't care." Daryl grunted as he grabbed the bit and reigns, trying to fasten it to the horse. The horse's ears wiggled about hassling Daryl as he tried to get the reign over the appendages. The horse hooved the ground in discontent, snorting at Daryl. Carol could hear Daryl "hmph" in protest at the horse as he finally slid the reigns over its ears.

"We don't know if we're going to find her, Daryl."

Carol could feel the blood run from her veins. A chill flew down her spine. She hadn't been sure if she could actually loose the words from her lips, but she did. Admitting this to herself cut a hole into her chest and she could feel herself begin to cry. Shane's words were clinging in her head and it made her believe all the more that their search was futile. That Sophia was just a lost cause.

Carol watched as Daryl stopped what he had been doing. She could see the wheels spinning in his head. Hell, she could feel his eyes burn into her through the back of his skull and she knew she'd struck some kind of chord within him. He removed the bridle from the horse and turned on his heel. His eyes narrowed at her and she could feel his cold stare. The way Daryl looked at her made her cringe and sent a pain through her. Made her feel bad for saying the things she was saying. Carol wasn't sure but she thought she saw a look of pain in his expression. Couldn't tell if it was from his freshly stitched side or if what she had said just then had bothered him.

"I can't lose you too." She uttered.

The corner of his eye twitched. Daryl wasn't quite sure what to think of Carol's statement. He had never been told something like that. It bothered him that she felt so comfortable to say something that was meant for people that mattered. Daryl didn't believe she could care for him. She may have made him feel needed because he was searching for her daughter, but it was because she needed him to find her. So she could feel whole again. Like her world wasn't crashing down on her.

Daryl knew what it was like to be in Sophia's place; he had been lost once. No one had gone searching for him. Perhaps he found purpose in searching for Sophia because he was still lost in the woods himself: a scared little boy. Daryl didn't know. He, himself, could not wrap his own head around his determination to find the girl. What he knew now was that he was furious at the woman that stood before him. Angry that she would shrug off the effort he had already put into searching for her daughter. Hurt that she was giving up hope so easily like everyone else had. He didn't understand how she could so easily believe what the others thought about the search. No one had even offered as much of themselves to finding Sophia as he had.

The more Daryl thought about what had transpired the more he became angry and spiteful. Daryl started chewing the inside of his cheeks, brows furrowed, eyes set in slats at her. She could feel the daggers aimed at her. He grabbed the saddle and chucked it as far as could. He grunted in pain as he doubled over. Carol darted for him to see if he was all right but he had swatted her away almost hitting her in the process and barked to leave him alone. Carol had backed off and watched as he staggered out of the horse stalls and out of sight.

Carol couldn't understand why he was so determined to find her daughter. What was it that drove him to want to find her so badly? Why had he gotten so upset over her posing the possibility that Sophia wasn't going to be found? What was wrong in thinking that? Daryl didn't owe her anything. He had no ties to her. What was his motivation?

Carol wandered around aimlessly left to her thoughts. She'd think back to the moment the herd had come and ambled past them as they hid under the cars. She wondered if she could have changed anything about that day. Maybe if Lori hadn't been clamping her mouth shut and she had made enough racket the walkers would have come after her rather than her little girl. She may have been able to draw them away and towards the group where they had weapons and could easily dispose of the two walkers. But Carol had stayed trapped under the car and Lori held a firm hand to her mouth. Rick had been the only one to take off after her. The last she had seen of Sophia was a panic-stricken plea for help.

Carol stopped, closed her eyes and held herself. Her nails dug moon crested shapes into her shoulders as she tried to keep herself from placing blame on herself for not being stronger. Was losing Sophia her punishment for wishing Ed's death? Even after all the years of being hit and kept away from everyone, the one and only thing she had ever cared about more than herself had to be stolen from her? Carol's fingers flew to the tiny cross at her chest, the chain cool beneath her skin. Her thumb rubbed over it as she held it in comfort. She was alone. Ed was gone. She had been thankful for that. But Sophia? She was just a child. This new world would eat her alive.

"Hey." Called Daryl. Carol hadn't noticed him till he had hobbled towards her, still trying to get his boots on all the way. His pant legs were wet as if he had been dipping his feet in the lake nearby. Carol hadn't realized that she had wandered so near the lake dock.

"C'mere, wanna show you somethin'," he said and motioned for Carol to follow after. She quirked an eyebrow at him unsure of his sudden change of attitude. They'd had an argument no more than an hour ago and already his demeanor had changed. Carol followed anyway. If he had something worth showing her, Daryl meant it. No reason he would drag her any further into the woods if there wasn't a purpose.

"Ya see 'em?" Daryl asked as he pointed to the white petals masked by the thick green brush.

They stopped and Carol saw what he had been gesturing to: Cherokee Roses. Carol reached out and rubbed one of the soft petals beneath her fingers.

"I'll find her." He said, his tone soft and even, but firm.

Carol looked up at him. "How do you know that? You heard what Shane sai-"

Daryl's gaze stopped her mid sentence. He didn't look directly at her. His head was cocked and he looked at her from an angle not quite making eye contact. His expression was hard, but there was a gentleness to his tone as he spoke.

"Because I believe she's still out there." The corners of Daryl's lips ever so slightly tugged up. It was such a small thin-lipped smile that he offered in consolation, if you blinked you missed it. Carol had caught this and felt a reassuring warmth wash over her. If he believed he was on route to finding Sophia, then she believed he would, too.

"We'll find her, Daryl." She said and let go of the rose petal.

\--- 

Carol pulled the dried out flower away from her chest. She blew the dust that covered its white petals and gently set it back in the middle of the "C". She smoothed out the gravel around the marker, straightened out the cross that stood a little lopsided. It was a little unnerving tending to her own grave. But how could they have know she was still alive that day? All they knew was that she had been with T-Dog and he had been killed trying to protect her.

Carol sat for a while staring at her grave. She wondered if anyone else besides Daryl had come to visit. Didn't seem so. Out of sight and out of mind, she supposed. Her grave seemed to be the only one regularly tended to. Daryl was likely the one to do that. She could faintly see the imprint of his boots nearest her grave. Carol sighed in exasperation. Why did he make her hurt like this? If Daryl ever came back she was going to slug him for making her care so much about him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I think I may have gotten things rolling a bit with Caryl. Slow burn is slow and I'm trying not to drag this out terribly so. Anywho, this chapter is definitely straying from the show. Hope you all enjoy it. As always review!
> 
> Side note: I tend to add new chapters every week to two weeks, but with the feels of last weeks episode I may expedite that. So be prepared!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Daryl had been in and out of consciousness most of the night he'd laid out in the gravel between the two fences. The walkers had started collecting where he had collapsed from exhaustion all snarling and snapping to get at his warm flesh. His clothes and stains on his hands from the blood probably drew the walkers to him.

He would chuckle to himself as he lay. To the walkers he was a tantalizing morsel merely out of reach just silently taunting them. At the same token it bothered him that they were driven on instinct to do nothing but consume and destroy. What an abhorrent existence. He clutched at his side where he'd been impaled with one of his bolts before. He cursed under his breath. The slightest movement or touch would send him reeling in pain. His bolt wound had long since been healed, however, Daryl had received a new set of wounds in its place.

Daryl hovered in and out of a listless sleep. With each jerk of his body to keep it from falling asleep, he would catch small transitions of the sky from night to day. The sun had been warming his body when he felt a nudge to his boot. His eyes had snapped open and he'd drawn his bow up in one swift motion. Rick stood with a quizzical look on his face as if Daryl had come back from the dead. Daryl dropped the bow and fell on his back in the gravel, panting from the heat and sudden movement.

"Shit... Y'all're still alive?" He gasped. In all honesty, Daryl hadn't even been sure if the next morning he would see any of his Atlanta group mates. The Governor had been on a warpath and he had not been remotely sure if he had struck and took everyone out or if some way, somehow they had survived and staved off attack. Regardless, the prison was the only place left he could go back to and so he had waited.

"You aren't bit are you?" Rick asked hesitantly ignoring his question, as he motioned to the blood on Daryl's hands and shirt with the Colt Python.

Daryl glanced at him and shook his head. "If I was, you actually gonna shoot me?" Rick nodded as he put his finger to the hammer and carefully pulled it back. "No... I ain't bit. Good lord, can't y'all take a damned joke?" He huffed. Rick loosed the hammer back in position and holstered his gun.

A sigh escaped Daryl's lips. He actually believed if he had told Rick he was bit he would have shot him on the spot with no questions asked. What had happened to them since he had been gone to drive him to be so ruthless in his actions?

Rick had fallen to his knees, his hand was at his temple and began mumbling something under his breath. Daryl lifted his head from the ground and saw Rick kneeled next to him. He carefully propped himself up onto his elbows watching him. Rick looked to Daryl and put a hand to his shoulder. They made eye contact.

They both looked like hell. There was a distinct vacancy in Rick's expression, almost like there was a small spit of life that lacked in them. Daryl was bloodied, dirty, and wounded. He felt partly responsible that he had left his friends to suffer what had happened to them. His hand had been forced that day. He had tried reasoning with them to have Merle stay, but they wouldn't have it. So Daryl and Merle had set off on their own, just like it had always been before Atlanta.

Daryl broke eye contact and looked away. The way Rick looked at him... It made him uneasy. After a moment the uneasiness subsided. Rick gently clapped him on the shoulder and whispered, "You've got impeccable timing."

"Ain't like I planned this." He rasped.

Rick let go of Daryl's shoulder and looked towards the prison. The guard tower was empty. He had been on watch when he'd seen an unusual collection of walkers huddled against one portion of the fence. Not thinking much of it, Rick had left post to investigate the sudden flux. He had been stunned to find the bloodied redneck laying on the ground half conscious inside their fence. Rick figured the day Daryl and Merle had set off would be the last he would ever see of him. He didn't expect to find him half dead waiting to be let into the prison any time soon.

"You gon' help me up or what?" Daryl asked interrupting Rick's thoughts as he struggled to his feet, squirrel skins swaying from his hip as he used the cocking stirrup on his crossbow as leverage to stand.

Rick promptly got to his feet and helped lift Daryl up.

"Ah! Easy on the waist, hoss. Think I broke somethin' there." Daryl hissed through clenched teeth. Rick had accidentally squeezed Daryl by the waist to help steady him. Rick quickly let go and adjusted by slinging Daryl's arm around his shoulders acting as a crutch as they walked together back to the prison.

"What happened to you?" Asked Rick. "You look like hell."

Daryl gnashed his teeth. His bag had nudged his side. "Geek horde overran our camp..."

"That's enough." Whispered Rick. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

"Did the Governor make his move?" asked Daryl.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, we lost Axel. There were... others, but... we’re safe… ‘till we can figure out a new plan of action."

“Sorry…” drawled Daryl after several seconds of silence. Rick stopped walking and cocked his head to the left to look at Daryl. Their eyes met.

“I’m not going to say that what you did was the smartest move, but you did what you had to. I respect that. Not so sure about the rest of them, but I understand. Carol, too. She knew, just like you said.” Replied Rick and motioned to start their walk again.

Daryl couldn't help but grimace the entire journey back to the prison. His side was just one giant open bruise. Any slight brushing or touching sent him reeling in pain. He didn't complain though. Daryl felt obligated to withhold any complaint of pain he had. From the route they were taking back to the prison block they stayed in, it seemed there had been a lot of losses for them. He had noticed walkers aimlessly meandering the field they had cleared their first night here.

He saw the bus where he'd taken watch their first night. It was shot up with bullet holes. Large blood stains covered patches of it as if it had been used for cover. He recalled Carol bringing him food. Him gently rubbing her shoulder she had hurt when holding the rifle. He hadn't thought about it, just motioned to do it without asking. Carol making constant eye contact with him. The way she had looked at him made him antsy and it had gotten under his skin enough to warrant him to excuse their privacy for the comfort of the group. She'd puckered her lips at this and jokingly prodded that what he'd done had been romantic.

"Wanna screw around?" She'd playfully asked.

Daryl had laughed it off trying to hide his discomfort in the situation. He wasn't used to advances from women, let alone how to court them. He wasn't quite sure if Carol was genuinely kidding or if she was serious. He couldn't quite tell with Carol. He'd started down the bus first to help her down, when she remarked that her view had been even better.

"Stop." He'd firmly replied. Carol giggled. She could do that to him without receiving a verbal reprimand. Daryl had grown accustomed to her joking and cold truths. He admired that in her. There were still things they just didn't talk about which was fine, but at times they seemed to be the large pink elephants in the room. And for that purpose he felt afraid to be as open with her as she was with him. Daryl couldn't be open. He didn't know how. The only thing he knew to do was be honest and pragmatic. Oftentimes this drew about conflict.

As they made their way up to the prison, Daryl and Rick came across Maggie and Glenn on their way to the guard tower. Glenn's soft expression hardened and he made long strides past the pair. Maggie simply did nothing, just solemnly followed after Glenn, her eyes set at Glenn's feet. She never looked up. Daryl arched an eyebrow at Rick who shot him a questionable “I told you so” glance.

“Mighty cheerful those two.” He drawled.

“Suppose they haven't worked things out for themselves just quite yet either. Surprised they're even occupying the same space.”

“Why's that?”

“Governor stripped Maggie half-naked and slammed her face into a table. Not sure what else happened after, but he did enough damage for the two to be at each others' throats since Woodbury.”

Daryl straightened himself up mid-stride. He could feel his blood boil at the thought of one of his own group-mates being assaulted in such a manner. It sickened him just as it had when Randall had talked of the two teenaged daughters his camp had come across. He had no tolerance for such filth. She may not have had any blood ties to him, but it didn't mean he hadn't grown to care for these people. “Gov'nor's gonna get his real soon.” He hissed.

Rick nodded. “We'll see soon enough. We've seen Andrea. The two of 'em have been bedding down. She's arranged a meeting with the Governor to discuss a truce. I need you with me that day.”

Daryl nodded. “Understood.” He stated and unhooked Rick's arm from around his waist. His gait wasn't as fluid due to his bruising and cuts, but he managed to make his way without Rick's help the rest of the way to the prison doors. Slight limp in his step.

Rick opened the doors and led Daryl inside, setting his bags at the bottom of the steps. “I'll leave you to settle in. I'm gonna go check up on Glenn and Maggie. Need to set them straight about things.”

Daryl nodded and watched as Rick went back outside. He stood for a while welcoming the coolness of the prison. He could feel his body begin to cool down after being stuck out in the heat for so long. He was thirsty. He hadn't realized how parched his throat was. He'd tried hard to ration the remaining bit of water he had but the Georgia sun was relentless and cruel. Didn't care if you'd only been out under its gaze for a few seconds, its rays beat down upon its prey with a vicious bite.

Knowing his bags wouldn't move themselves, Daryl picked them up one at a time and made his way through the chow-hall and into their sleeping quarters of the cell block.

\---

Carol stared in disbelief. Daryl stood before her. She rubbed her eyes and blinked several times, thinking she'd dreamed him to life.

No, this was real.

Daryl was standing before her. His hair sticking up in crazed licks. He was more starved than usual and skinnier compared to when she had last seen him. His cheeks had been fuller, his arms less thin and the hollows of his eyes less defined. A new scar was in the process of healing across his forearm and a small one already healed defined itself across his right cheekbone, blood coated his fingernails and a large dirt smudge streaked across his nose and down his neck. Flecks of blood littered his entire body and there was a new rip in his jeans at his left inner thigh. For lack of better words, Daryl had seen better days.

Carol gawked as Daryl stood awkwardly in the cell block unsure of why she stared so hard at him. It was like she was trying to discern if he was actually there. He didn't like that in the least bit. It made him anxious. Carol took a hesitant step forward, but then stopped when he flinched backing away from her. She couldn't control herself. She could feel herself on the verge of tears as she took another step forward then sprang into a sprint towards Daryl. She was happy but at the same time so angry.

She had spent the better portion of the past few weeks or so worrying to death about whether he was OK, or if he would ever come back. Each day felt like it would never end. Carol would tell herself: tomorrow. He'll come back tomorrow and apologize for leaving as he did. But he never came back. Not 'till now.

Carol furrowed her eyebrows at him feeling the anger surge through her as she got close; she began beating her fist into his chest. She frenziedly struck as hard as she could, catching him off guard. He quickly grabbed her wrists to keep her from hitting him any harder. Daryl's grip was loose. He didn't intend to restrain her by means of force and in consequence hurt her. He just wanted her to stop.

"The hell's your problem lady?" He grunted trying to hold her arms still. It wasn't exactly the reunion he was anticipating. Daryl knew she would either be happy or extremely pissed... and it had been the latter. Their eyes met. A fire burned in Carol's blue doe-eyed expression. He knew she had understood why he had left, but it didn't mean that she had to accept his leave of absence.

"Was it that easy? Leaving us behind like that?" She really wanted to say: me. Finding out he had gone with Merle no questions asked had hurt her deeply. She'd thought that their group, their family, had meant something more to him. It had, but Daryl had his own set of code to adhere to. She understood that, but she didn't want to accept that it was that easy for him to just pack up and leave. "Was it worth it?" She snapped, wrestling her hands from his grip.

Daryl averted his eyes from Carol's and took a step back letting go of her wrists. He didn't need this right now. He had just gotten back. Alive for one thing and she was already jumping down his throat. Shouldn't she be grateful he even made it back at all? Shouldn't she be happy he kept his promise?

"The fuck you want me ta say? No? Well yer right it wasn't worth it. I watched them geeks tear my brother apart. Asshole did one good thing for me and I couldn't even tell him: thanks, bro." He yelled at Carol with a slight quiver in his tone. The entire time his fist clenched and unclenched at his hip, his breathing was in sharp inhales and slow exhales trying to keep his temper at a low.

Carol's mouth fell agape at what Daryl had just said. His scowl was deep, lip slightly curled into a snarl and sad. The corners of his eyes were beginning to well up. He wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was crying. From what it seemed, this had been one of the only brotherly things Merle was able to muster out of himself in a last ditched attempt to save his younger brother.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't need this." He growled and stalked off leaving Carol dumbstruck. She was surprised he was even capable of crying in front of her. He was normally so careful with keeping his emotions to himself. It pained her to see him in such anguish.

Carol collected herself and hesitated after him. "Daryl... Please don't go."

Daryl's head snapped to her and he quickly shot back, "Why? So you can use me for a punchin' bag again? Didn't expect that from the likes of you. Figured you'd gotten yer fair share of licks from yer husband." He shook his head at her, hurriedly wiping his eyes and began walking away again.

Carol started after him. His words cut into her, but he was right. She was lashing out at him and he had just dealt with immense physical and emotional pain. Daryl was drained, defeated. You couldn't not see it in his eyes or the way he held himself. Carol ran to him and pulled him into a hug. Her arms wrapping around his slim waist, head brushed up against his strong back. She could feel his body go completely rigid at her touch. Daryl didn't loosen up. He unwound her arms from him.

"You think tryin' to come onta me like that is gonna make me feel better? I ain't like that." He said coolly. Daryl's stare was sharp and unflinching.

Carol glared at him perturbed that he would think something so callous. "So then what are you like, Daryl? Hmm? Because frankly I'm tired of being your bleeding heart. I don't know what you think of me, whether I'm just some burden you took upon yourself to watch over or if you actually care about me at all."

"Dammit woman. What the hell do you want from me? Huh? Ain't it enough that I'm alive?" He yelled. "That I even came back at all?"

This took Carol aback. Daryl was right. Wasn't it enough? That he was alive? She focused so much on him being gone that she failed to realize things could have turned out worse. He may not have returned at all and they could have found him dead in a ditch or worse... One of the walking dead. Here Daryl was though: alive albeit exhausted, famished and wounded.

"Everyone needs to crawl out of my ass already about me leavin'. I had no choice. Y'all had no right to even ask me to choose. Now that, I didn't ask for that." He dourly replied.

Carol looked at Daryl. Actually looked at him. He was an open wound and she was just adding the salt over and over again. This wasn't how she had wanted to confront him again. Carol had hoped it would be on more casual terms, but that hadn't been the case at all. Instead she had unleashed all her pent up rage on him, striking him like it had been his fault. Daryl wasn't the one to blame and neither was it really Merle's fault either. Glenn had been the one to push Daryl to choose one or the other. He should never have done that.

Carol made a move towards him. Daryl stepped back. A cross look creeping into his features. He was starting to pull away from her again. His instincts to keep everyone at bay was something she had thought he'd long done away with having been more integrated into the group. She supposed that would be a hard trait to outright ignore if it were so engrained into that person.

She took another step towards him again. This time Daryl stood his ground. Carol reached out to Daryl's forehead and moved his sweaty bangs out of his face, her fingers delicately caressing his cheek and tracing a path to the scar beneath his eye. He'd flinched but didn't outright move from the touch. She cupped his cheek into her hand, her thumb gently stroking the scar. The look in his eyes changed. The ferocity that burned within them flickered out and there was a certain sadness that lingered in place.

She saw the cracks in his tough exterior. Was it really that hard to just let go and be open with her? After all they had been through together? Suddenly she felt Daryl rest his cheek into her hand. As he shut his eyes several tears came streaking down his cheeks. She could feel the taut muscle of his jaw clenching beneath her fingers.

“I'm sorry." she said, pulling him into an embrace as she slipped her hand behind his neck. Daryl tried to squirm out of the hold but gave up realizing that she wasn't trying to patronize him or hurt him. Carol was genuinely trying to comfort him. Daryl stood limply in Carol's arms as she gently rubbed the nape of his neck with her fingers, her cheek pressed against his stubbled chin. Her other arm wrapped around his back tracing long curves along the stitched angel wings on his vest. She could feel him wince beneath her hands and she quickly pulled away.

"Are you hurt?" She immediately asked, concern ebbing into her tone.

Daryl grimaced slightly and nodded. "Merle kicked my ass out of a farm house. Gave me a boot to the back and out a window. Pretty sure I fell on a rock or somethin' on my way down."

"You need to see Hershel." She commanded, taking Daryl by the hand and pulling him into the mess-hall. She led him to the table and motioned for him to sit. He obeyed.

"I'll go get him. Just stay here." As quickly as she'd said it, Carol was gone in search of Hershel.

Daryl sat at the table, arms loosely crossed across his chest, leg propped on his knee. He winced in pain but bit back the yelp it elicited from his lips.

"Son of a bitch." He growled under his breath.

Daryl shut his eyes. The prison was always brightest at this time of day. The light hurt his eyes causing him to squint half the time he was out. He disliked that about having such fair colored eyes. He'd always had a sensitivity to the light and tried to keep a pair of sunglasses with him when possible, but being the way the world was, such luxuries were few and far between. He disliked that about Georgia with its harsh sun beating on you all hours of the day, but despite that he loved her woods and all it had to offer him.

As Daryl began to relax, left to his thoughts he found himself drifting off to sleep. He had forgotten how tired and exhausted he had been the past few days. He welcomed sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a feeling this chapter is going to be the most disjointed of the bunch. Bare with me, I promise it will be well worth the wait. As always thanks for reviewing. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Carol came through the door and saw Daryl asleep. She had never seen him so at peace. He must have been up for days before he had made it back to the prison. She could see in the way he moved, his actions were sluggish yet meticulous with the way he slowly would adjust himself to a new position careful so as to not further incur more pain from his injuries. She inched her way closer to him and watched as he slumbered. She saw the steady slow rise and fall of his chest, a sliver of scar tissue peeking out from the collar of his shirt. She initially frowned, but softly smiled. Daryl was stronger from when she had first met him. He was a better man than she had ever thought possible from when their group had first encountered the Dixon brothers. He had been feral and unhinged with wild fervor, but now he was gentle and patient, still temperamental and angry, but for the most part quiet and kind.

How was it that he managed to make it this far on his own? For all she knew Daryl had been out by himself for several days maybe even a week at most. She wouldn't know. He would never say.

Carol paused for a moment and just watched mesmerized by his rhythmic breathing. She found herself moving closer to Daryl. With delicate fingers she carefully swept the fringe of his bangs out of his face. She studied his features as she gently rubbed her finger along his brow. There were more whiskers around his chin even a few gray ones peeking through the auburn brown. His hair lacked the normal upkeep he would have done if he had stayed with them.

She shrugged the negative feelings of him being gone away. She couldn't hold a grudge against Daryl. Refused to do so. Life was, for lack of better words, too short to do that. Shutting her eyes, Carol leaned over Daryl and without hesitation she chastely kissed his chapped lips. Her hand caressing his cheek as she pressed her forehead to his. It was brief, but it was something she felt she needed to do. She could smell the scent of fresh earth and sweat on his skin. Carol could feel his breath hitch and his eyebrows crease beneath her forehead. She quickly withdrew from him and opened her eyes, Daryl's steely blue gaze greeting her back.

Even through all the dirt muck and dark Georgia tan, a brilliant red flashed across their cheeks in embarrassment. Carol backed away almost instantaneously. Daryl sat stoically looking away from her, a twinge of pink staining his cheeks.

"Uhm..." Started Carol, unsure of what to say to explain her actions.

Daryl continued to avert his attention elsewhere. The corner of his eye twitched when she had spoken. He sat for several seconds clenching his jaw and quickly drawing his hand to his mouth, gave a quick sweep of his hand across his lips and began chewing at his thumb.

"Daryl, I..." Carol began again. At that moment, Hershel hobbled into the chow-hall, Beth followed after with a bag of supplies. A wide smile spread across her face.

"We're glad you're back." She said and set the bag down.

Hershel set his crutches aside and took a seat next to Daryl, clapping a hand to his shoulder and giving him a good squeeze. "We really are." He reiterated. "Now let's see what mess you've gotten yourself into this time... Again."

"What? Wastin' the good shit on me?" He drawled.

"Aren't we always?" Hershel chuckled and motioned for Daryl to get on the table. "So what happened this time?"

Daryl uncrossed his legs and swung his leg over the bench so he was straddling it, his back to Hershel. Carol watched as he slowly pulled his vest off with articulated care, laying it across the table top. His fingers found the bottom button and began unfastening it. He thumbed several buttons open and found the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric up on the left side of his waist. A swirl of blue and purple stained his side with various surface wounds scattered about his back. They looked to have been cleaned from what she saw. Strips of shredded pieces of shirt, his classic tourniquet, wrapped around his waist with leaves padding the deeper and larger gouges she assumed. She could see faint scars cascading towards his back and across his navel. The majority of his scars littered his back in gnarly crossroads, zigzagging across his tan skin.

Hershel gently reached out and touched the bruising. Daryl flinched.

"Have you been coughing up blood?" Asked Hershel as he slowly began applying pressure, attempting to pinpoint any other affliction caused from his tumble out the window.

Daryl shook his head. "No." He hissed through clenched teeth. "Easy on the pushing. Hurts like a bitch."

Hershel softly laughed. "Well, you're fine. Nothing seems broken. Looks like you got all the glass. We just need to clean those up a bit better. Whatever happened to you was pretty severe, but not enough to break a rib or puncture a lung. You're quite lucky to have survived your fall."

Daryl huffed at this, his eyebrows knitting together in anguish, and pulled his shirt down, quickly re-buttoning it. He disliked the feeling of being exposed. It made him feel like he was on display. He hated more that he'd gotten away completely unscathed whereas Merle had not. He was the only Dixon boy left. The thought stung.

Hershel motioned to clean Daryl's wounds but he merely swatted him away. "I'll take care of it." He replied with a distinct commanding tone. He seemed to bristle at the kindness exhibited by Hershel. He felt bad, but he was a well of mixed emotions he couldn't control at that moment. He needed to not be prodded at. When he was ready he would deal with his cuts.

"Just take it easy the next few days. Have you eaten son?" Hershel asked observing Daryl's languid movement.

The question stole Daryl from his thoughts and looked to Hershel, who sat placidly with a soft thin-lipped smile. He was unperturbed by Daryl's sudden sharp temper. "No. I haven't caught a thing in a few days. Been working off the local fauna. Berries and roots. That's it." His stomach growled low reiterating his hunger.

"I'll fix you something." Blurted Carol. She'd been fidgeting with the excess length of her head wrap for the majority of the time Hershel had been examining Daryl. She needed something to do. She was still quite embarrassed she had been caught in the act stealing a kiss from him. Her mind was just a flurry of questions that needed answering. First and foremost she needed to make him something to eat, giving her an excuse to slow her rampant mind and help her collect her thoughts.

Carol made her way over to where the food was and started heating up water. She could feel the tension in the room, whether it was because she had put it there in the first place, she wasn't sure but it was there and you could literally cut the atmosphere. She could hear the scuffing sound of Hershel's crutches and the soft patter of Beth's feet as they left the mess hall. She and Daryl were alone again.

As she methodically went to work, Carol couldn't help but steal glances at Daryl who sat at the table cleaning his nails. From what it seemed, Daryl wasn't the least bit phased by their kiss. He occupied himself to the menial grooming of his fingers. His gaze focused on the task, but his eyes so devoid of life. They lacked that predatory spark they usually held.

Carol finished cooking the noodles and grabbed a set of tongs. She served him a generous portion, hoping he would be full and content. She hated how skinny he looked. Him leaving as he had was not the best thing he could have done especially off the cuff without food or water. She was surprised he even made it this long without water.

She set the bowl in front of him and offered him a fork. It took him a second to notice she had handed him the bowl, eyes reverting back from the spacey gaze. Daryl took the bowl from her hands and mumbled 'thanks' under his breath, digging into his food. She watched as he hastily ate, slurping up noodles, broth flecks being flung willy-nilly about the table. Carol giggled at his frantic eating. He caught her staring and stopped, a few stray noodles hanging out the corner of his mouth. "What?" he scoffed, as he thumbed the noodles back into his mouth.

Her cheeks went pink and she turned around to clean out the pan she'd used to cook his meal. "Nothing. Just... nothing." she said.

"Ain't no 'nothing' when you say it like that." Daryl replied.

Carol began biting her bottom lip. Daryl wasn't stupid. He was very observant. He could see through peoples' bullshit. "Are you thirsty?" She quickly offered and ambled around a pillar poking a fresh bottle of water in hand from around the corner. She waved it animatedly at him as if he was a dog and was waiting for a response.

"Uh...” was all he could get out before she disappeared from his focal point again. Carol popped out from around the corner with a cup in hand. Daryl watched her curiously as he continued eating. He kept his eyes on her as she moved about the mess-hall. Her movement was fluid and frenetic. She was nervous, he could tell. The way she poured the water into his cup with a jerky motion, water dribbling down the sides, splashing onto the table. Carol was making a mess of things. Daryl raised both eyebrows in sudden realization, and went back to his noodles, the corner of his lips curving into a smile.

Carol sat down opposite him, fidgeting in her seat. She noticed the spilled water across the table and pulled down a bit of her long-sleeve to sop up the mess.

"Sorry." She finally said after what seemed an eternity's worth of silence. Carol wasn't sure what she was trying to apologize for. Kissing him when he was out for the count? Spilling everything on the table? Being awkward about the entire situation? She supposed she was being just apologetic over everything.

Daryl had at that point finished the noodles and was drinking the warm broth from the bowl. He set it down after he had finished and looked at her, streaks of broth dribbling down the corners of his mouth. He lazily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed the bowl away from him. His eyes met hers and she quickly looked elsewhere. Carol couldn't muster the courage to even look him in the eyes she was so embarrassed over the entire situation. Daryl nervously chuckled a bit, finding the situation amusing.

He couldn't believe something completely innocent as a kiss could render her so flustered. Hell, he should have been the one embarrassed. He was the one who had no real experience with women besides the random drunken romps he would have in the back of his truck cab. Those had been Merle's attempts at making a man of him, as he had affectionately put it. Daryl wouldn't count those as real relationships, but they had been something and most he would have rather forgotten. Especially the girls that simply got mad when he'd fall asleep out of boredom or come early because he wanted the encounter to be over and done with. Those were things he wished he could forget.

His laugh somehow eased Carol's nerves. Her high arched shoulders sagged back to a more relaxed state and she let out a long sigh with an anxious laugh.

"Did I mention I'm glad you're back?" Carol finally said, looking at him. Daryl looked back at her and gently smirked.

\---

Daryl panted as he pulled Merle up the stairs in the abandoned farm house. His brothers' feet drug and made it near impossible to get up the stairs as quickly as he had wanted. Growling and moaning could be heard no more than a few steps behind him.

"Move yer ass Darylina. I hear 'em comin'." Grunted Merle as he staggered with Daryl up the steps.

"Merle... Shut up." Snapped Daryl as they finally made it up. The walkers were clambering at their heels.

Daryl quickly pushed Merle up against a wall and grabbed the largest hay bale he could find, shoving it in front of the stairs, hurriedly stacking a second on top. Several walkers lumbered up the stairs and reached out towards Daryl whom recoiled from within their claw-like grasp. Daryl fell backwards tripping over a bucket on the ground. He groped his way backwards, fingers grabbing hold of Merle's boots. He looked up and saw the sweat pouring down his face and the deep gray hollow circles beneath his eyes. The fever had gotten worse and the bullet wound to his chest... Nothing that could be done.

A sudden crash and hissing removed Daryl's attention back to their current situation. The walkers had gotten up the stairs. He struggled to get up with all the packs clinging to his shoulders and weighing him down.

"Git on outta here, little brother." Barked Merle. "Them biters and I're gonna have us a mighty fine time."

Daryl's brows furrowed and he threw himself up in one swift motion. He grabbed Merle by the lapel of his shirt eyes narrowed and drug him further towards the hay bales in the far corner. There was a window that they could use to get out of. He wasn't about to leave his brother to the walkers. No way. Daryl rushed them over as quickly as Merle could move. Merle sagged and slumped against the hay bale, eyes fluttering open and shut as soon as they reached the end of the pathway. He was mumbling incoherent thoughts. The fever was starting to steal his 'you' part. He had to move fast.

Daryl swung his crossbow to his shoulder and began picking off walkers. He had to make these count. He only had 6 bolts left. He took one down in the eye, its head snapping back and falling to the ground with a loud thud. The walker behind it tripped and began crawling across the floor. A blessing in disguise he supposed. He dropped his crossbow to the ground and placed his boot on the cocking stirrup for leverage to draw back the string.

The biters lurched closer towards them. Daryl could hear his heart hammering in his ears. The loud drumming in his head sending a panic throughout his body. The string snapped and he nocked an arrow in place. He swung the bow to his shoulder and loosed another arrow into the walker clawing at the floor to get closer. Its head dropped and it stopped in its tracks causing a pile up. Daryl quickly dropped his bow again to reload. He was knocked off balance by a walker that had fallen over the one he had just killed. He stumbled back and lost the arrow he was loading.

He could see the broken rotten teeth of the walker as it moved swiftly towards him. Its thin nobly fingers frantically clawing for him. In seconds, the walker was put down. Merle had rammed his shiv into its head. He kicked it off the side rail and looked to the wide-eyed Daryl.

"I can't go with you. Not this time little brother." Replied Merle, his mouth opening and shutting with each heavy pant. Daryl could see Merle's chest struggling to take in each lungful of air.

Daryl's jaw went slack and he scrambled to his feet, snatching his bow. "What're you talkin' 'bout, Merle. Maybe there's somethin' we could do. There's gotta be--"

"It don't work like that son. We know what'sa comin'. I ain't becomin' one of them. Now git your sorry ass outta here ‘fore them biters getcha." Merle glanced at Daryl, pushing him away. There was fear in his eyes, but a general acceptance of what was to come. Daryl shook his head.

"No... I ain't leavin' ya again." He stammered out. Daryl tugged at Merle's shirt. "C'mon, let's go." A look of plea filled Daryl's eyes and Merle looked away. He couldn't stand to see his younger brother like that. To look up to him and wonder what's next? There was no 'next time'. There would never be another one of those kinds of times for them.

"C'mon Merle. We gotta go." Daryl hissed, tugging his shirt once more.

"No, yer on yer own this time, little brother. I ain't gonna beg ya. Now you go on. Leave ol' Merle behind."

Daryl shook his head in protest and began pulling harder. Merle threw a swift punch to Daryl's arm, urgency in his eyes. He motioned again for Daryl to move, but firmly shook his head once more.

A wild-eyed look crossed Merle's features, every rigged line in his forehead pulled down in anger. He punched Daryl again. An oomph sound escaped his lips as Daryl hugged himself trying not to cough and retch. He hesitantly looked up as Merle lumbered towards him.

"NOW GIT YER ASS OUTTA HERE BEFORE I KNOCK YER TEETH IN." Roared Merle as he grabbed Daryl by his shoulders spinning him around. Without hesitation, he brought his boot up and thrust it into Daryl's back sending him out the window, shattering it into a million pieces as he watched his brother fall out of sight.

"I'm sorry Derle." Whispered Merle as he pulled his gun from his hip and pulled the hammer back.

Daryl landed on his back. He lost his breath on impact and gasped to reclaim it. He rolled to his side and off the large rock that surely had broken some of his ribs upon meeting the earth. Shards of glass embedded into his back. He cursed to hell and back at the blood seeping through his shirt and the pain ebbing up his spine. He felt ripples of numbness spike up and down his legs as he struggled to regain his composure. He heard the cries of four bullets go off and then a fifth shot ring out. Silence. The air was still.

His eyes widened as he realized what had just happened. Daryl sat up pulling his knees to his chest as he tried hard not to scream and shout. He could feel hot tears streak down his cheeks at the loss of his older brother. He gripped his pant legs till his knuckles turned white. He could taste copper on his tongue as he bit deep into his cheeks attempting to drown out his sorrows.

He was upset. He could feel a swelling rage building inside him. This was all the Governor's fault. They'd gotten caught while hunting and Merle had taken a bullet for him. Pushed him out of the way. Daryl had managed to rid Merle of the larger bullet fragment but the smaller pieces had been imbedded deeper into his chest. So deep that Daryl couldn't muster the courage to whittle his knife deeper, chance hurting Merle by slicing an artery or major vessel. The tourniquet had slowed the bleeding, but the trek back to the prison for Hershel's medical care was so far off; Daryl knew they could never make it in time. And they hadn't. The smell of blood had drawn the walkers to them. A drove of them had been wandering aimlessly nearby their camp and the two brothers had been on the run since.

A loud crash and thud stole Daryl from his mourning. The low guttural sound of a moan and the gentle brush of grass being waded through could be heard a few feet away. He looked up from his knees and choked on his yelps of surprise. The gnawed up body of Merle reached out to him. Its pale yellowed lifeless eyes staring at him right back. Putrid stink of death filling his nostrils caused him to clamp a hand to his mouth to prevent himself from heaving up the nothing in his belly. The half-eaten corpse continued snarling and snapping as it clawed its way closer to Daryl who sat paralyzed by the sight. Flesh was stripped off Merle's hands and arms, the milky white bone stained with red, stringy muscle dangling and dragging from the ground as the ravenous corpse groped for Daryl.

Finally finding his senses, Daryl started shifting back away from the now walker-turned Merle, bloody fingers jerking and clambering to get a hold of him. Daryl suddenly felt his back pushed against a tree; the glass pieces inching further into his skin. He'd edged himself so far back he hadn't realized he'd cornered himself. Merle found Daryl's pants and began ravenously climbing up his body, coagulated blood dribbling from his snapping jaw. He grasped Merle by the neck to keep him from climbing further up his body and ripping a strip of flesh from his neck. Quickly Daryl pulled his buck knife from its sheath, the corpse starting to dig its fingers into his shoulders.

"Ain't nobody gonna care 'bout you 'cept me little brother."

"No. No. No." Daryl screamed as he shut his eyes, tears and snot running down his face.

A deft shake of his shoulders and he thrust his knife across the length of his body. A yelp escaped his lips and his eyes snapped open. Daryl sat up sweat pouring down his face, his throat dry from his heavy panting. He stared at Carol who sat wide-eyed and scared in front of him. The large buck knife held just underneath her right cheekbone. A thin red line had appeared and blood started to creep out of the cut. Daryl pulled his knife away and tossed it to the ground of his cell. The clang of metal on concrete rung loud in the empty silence of the prison echoing off its walls.

His lip curled up in a sneer, teeth gritting to and fro. He looked away from Carol. Daryl shut his eyes and clenched the bed sheets in his fists.

"Daryl..." Whispered Carol. "Are you OK?"

He looked to her. Looked at her. Daryl could see her pupils dilated, very little blue showed, but it was evident that she was trying to keep herself together. Carol put a reassuring hand on his arm. He could feel her hand trembling, her fingers cool and clammy on his burning skin. She was trying not to show her fear of him in that gesture but her body deceived her actions. He jerked his arm away and got up.

Without a word spoken, Daryl left the cell grabbing his crossbow from the top bunk. Carol sat in Daryl's cell alone. Terrified. Her hand went to her cheek where he'd grazed her with his knife. It lay abandoned at her feet. Its grizzly glare shone bright from the moonlight bouncing off its body. She could feel the warmth of the blood droplets on her fingers. She withdrew her hand and looked to see the extent of the cut. Nothing more than a light graze. Carol could feel her heart sink in her chest as she sat still, eyes dancing about her hand.

"He was having a nightmare." She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I purposely spelled Daryl as Derle because of Mike Rooker and the few times he has said Daryl's name. Also there's a video of behind the scenes clips on Survival Instincts where he spells it out and says: it's not Daryl, its Derle, lol! A mini tribute to the wonderful Michael Rooker and his portrayal of Merle, you shall be deeply missed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As always thank you all for following. I'm getting so many ideas I'm having a feels session with this fic. I love it and I hope you all enjoy this too. What to say... Nope not a thing. Just enjoy. As always read and review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

"I'll take watch."

Rick quirked a curious eyebrow at the pacing redneck; his eyes never leaving Daryl's form. His bangs clung to his forehead from the sweat that streaked down his temples, his eyebrows knitted together in frustration. His fist clenched at his side, fingers gripping the crossbow strap with a death-like vice. Grease rag in his pocket flipping back and forth as he stalked up and down the cabin. "I started watch an hour ago, Daryl. I think-"

"I said I'd take watch. Now go on. I got it covered." He snapped, an edge in his tone. There was urgency in his voice that demanded his request be acquiesced. He'd never asked for anything in the past year or so he'd been with the group. Besides of course to see Merle when they'd heard he was in Woodbury, which he'd declined. Rick knew in that moment that he was forcing Daryl to pick the group over Merle and he had just as he had expected, but that plan had gone south quickly. If Daryl was demanding something, there would be hell to pay and Rick figured a break from watch would do him some good.

Without another word spoken between the two, Rick nodded his head at Daryl and left him be. Daryl listened as the door shut from down below and the gate scratched against the gravel path. The endless noise drowning his thoughts. He let out a long sigh he had not realized he'd been holding. He needed this solitude right now. He desired no one's presence but the vast open of nothing before him. He needed to be alone.

Daryl propped his crossbow up against the wall nearest the door. He moved to the guard rail and looked down. The drop was far below. Probably 50 feet at most. His eyes slowly wandered towards the gate where the walkers lumbered against, dragging their fingers along the chain-links causing a racket most nights. He huffed and slumped to the floor. He kicked his legs out over the edge of the guard tower so his feet dangled in mid air. He crossed his arms over the rail and rest his head in the crook of his arms.

He felt like he was a kid again sitting in the old tire swing that was down the road from his childhood home. Daryl remembered how his legs were never long enough for him to kick himself back on his own. He required the aide of Merle in order to get a good swing. Oftentimes, Merle would push it so hard Daryl would somersault out of the tire landing on his back, wind knocked from his lungs, feet sprawled up in the air, eyes crisscrossing from the tumble. Merle would rush over to make sure his baby brother was all right and sure enough Daryl would want another go at it. A giant grin would spread across Merle's face and the two would take turns trying to push the other as hard as their arms could muster.

He bit his lip and felt the corners of his mouth tug into a scowl. He could feel the tears welling up and he quickly bit down on his lip harder trying to keep himself from dwelling on his brother's death, on the memories they had once shared.

He buried his face in his arms, wiping his eyes furiously against them. He couldn't mourn Merle. He never would have wanted him to act a child over his death. Merle would have wanted him to take a shot of whiskey and slam the glass on his grave calling it a 'fabulous ride'. He wished he had a cigarette or two to keep his thoughts preoccupied. Smoking a smooth flavored cigarette could calm his nerves before the world ended. Now, things were different. Now he actually had to deal with the events that transpired. He couldn't hide away like he was so used to doing. Daryl rubbed his eyes, trying to rid them of the tears he'd cried.

He quickly disregarded his previous thoughts trying to bottle his emotions and went back to watching the world continue on without him. Just sat and watched as the walkers moved about the grounds: hissing and snarling, rattling the fence. Listened to the rustle and snapping in the woods. The gentle shake of the trees from the light breeze that cascaded over the Georgia land. He could feel the goose pimples rise on his skin and the hairs start to stand up. He regretted having not grabbed a jacket or at least his poncho on his way out of his cell. He had been in such a hurry to tuck tail and run in that moment he had not thought of where he was headed to until he found himself at the base of the guard tower. He couldn't go back now. She'd still be there.

He shut his eyes burying his face in his arms once more.

"Fuck me." He hissed.

He could have killed her. Carol could have been stabbed in the head had she gotten any closer to him in that moment. He could have sliced her nose off or worse. He had seen the blood. Its bright red color oozing from her cut and he'd been out of sight in a flash. The mere thought that he had caused her to bleed sent a sickening shudder through his body. It may have been a simple light graze across her cheek but his thrust had been so cruel and fast. Things could have gone so awry and there would have been no one to blame but himself.

His heart ached. He felt ashamed. He felt empty. Merle's lifeless pale eyes flashed before him and a pain shot through his heart. His hand flew to his chest trying to ease the pang. He felt the muscles in his heart constrict, a sharp pain causing him to let out a shuddering exhale. The muscles in his neck went taut and it hurt to breathe. He felt like he was being suffocated, strangled really by his own body. Slowly the pain subsided and his breathing relaxed once more.

"Daryl... Are you OK?"

The soft snick of the door behind him brought him back from the tortures his mind was bringing him. His head snapped up to see Carol standing over him. Her cut had been cleaned and dressed with a fresh band-aid placed where it couldn't viciously remind him that he had been the cause. Daryl hurriedly looked away. He just wanted to hide. Curl up and hide away from her. He was ashamed and she knew it. He pulled his shoulders up higher and buried his face deeper into his arms

"I'm fine." He retorted. Though muffled, his voice was distinctly gravelly and harsh.

She frowned slightly but didn't object to his statement. Carol displaced her weight to her other foot, nodding her head. She looked down to the item she held in her hand, fidgeting with the hem. She opened her mouth, and then shut it, thinking better of what to say. She batted her eyelashes, averting her attention to her feet.

"Here," She said finally, holding out his shirt with the stitched leather sleeves after several seconds of silence.

Daryl looked over his shoulder and saw his shirt offered to him. He looked at Carol whose gaze fell to the item in hand and then back to him. A slight look of plea crossed her features as she offered it to him once more. Daryl silently relented. He graciously took it from her hands quickly looking back out towards the woods and shrugged it on. It was warm. She must have been clutching it tight to her chest because it still had her body heat in the fibers. He heard her move and take a seat next to him.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her with her back against the rails, knees drawn up, arms resting on them, nose hidden in the sleeves of her jacket. Just her pale blue eyes peeked behind the woolen coat, moonlight catching their glow.

He looked away. Preoccupying his gaze with an owl sitting in the tree far across the way. It's hooting echoing over the expansive field. It was probably communicating with a fellow owl or perhaps searching for something.

Daryl gave a gentle swing to his legs as they dangled above the nothingness. The weightlessness seemed to ease his mind a bit, but Carol's presence made him nervous. He wasn't sure what to expect from her, whether he should expect anything at all. What did she want? Hadn't he already caused her enough grief for one day? Why did she come to him? Was she not afraid of him? Afraid that he may hurt her again?

He heard her softly sigh and she shifted a bit in her position.

"When Sophia went missing... All I could think of was: my poor baby. All alone in the woods. Lost. What could I have done to keep her safe? All I had to do was keep an eye on her. I couldn't even do that.” Carol paused. She let out a sharp breathe then continued. “She was my punishment for being happy that Ed was gone, that I no longer had to worry about him hurting me or my Sophia... I was angry with God that He could be that cruel. To take her away from me as He did." She said quietly.

Daryl sat. Listening intently. His words stung. He hadn't meant to be so cruel to her that day, but she had pushed him to that edge where he couldn't withhold his bite. She'd hurt him just as he had hurt her. Carol looked to Daryl. He could feel her eyes on him. Her gaze burned a hole into the side of his head and he knew she was making him uncomfortable. He knew what she was getting at. These were things they didn't speak of. Things they left unspoken.

"I'm afraid... Of you Daryl. Afraid for you." She whispered. He could hear her stifle a sob.

Daryl chewed his lip. "It's OK... If you're scared." He croaked and peered over his shoulder after several seconds of silence. He wasn’t sure if he could loose the words from his throat. Carol looked back at him. Their eyes met. His eyes lingered for a moment searching her features for some reaction and feeling uncomfortable with the gesture, Daryl looked away. There was an understanding, despite his awkwardness. Carol acknowledging her fear of him relieved him. He didn't want her to put up a front and pretend she wasn't afraid of him. That only proved she wasn't foolish, that she was as strong as he thought she was.

“Daryl… are you scared?” Asked Carol quietly.

He nodded. She may not have seen him do it, but she could hear the movement of the fabric of his jacket as he acknowledged her question. “Always.”

They sat in silence once more. The owl let out a shrill screech as it took off. Daryl could hear the loud beating of the owl’s wings as it gained speed and swooped down in the brush, talons outstretched. A spastic squeak blurted out of the brambles and the owl soared up with its meal in its claws.

Carol broke the silence. "You've kept me going. You gave me strength when no one else did. You gave me hope. Always have."

Daryl adjusted. He took the grease rag that lay next to his pocket in his hands and played with the corner of the cloth, flipping it back and forth between his fingers. He heard what she was saying, but... The words were foreign to him. He couldn't wrap his head around her praise. His Daddy never praised him. Those were words that never fell into his vocabulary. Carol and he sat silently once more. Daryl wasn't sure if she was waiting on him for a response. If she was, he would never give one. Didn't know what to say really. Didn't know if he should thank her or decline her statement as false.

He sighed, swallowing the lump in his throat. Talks like these made him anxious. Like he was expected to say something that would turn the tide of the conversation. Like he could give more meaning to the conversation by speaking a few words. He didn't have anything to add. He never did. He stopped fidgeting with the rag and went back to the comfort of the guard rail. Resting his head on his left arm that held the rail possessively. Right hand palming the ground next to his pocket.

"You've always believed in me, Daryl."

His eyes widened as he felt her hand on his. Her soft warm skin burning the top of his hand. He jerked his hand away closer to his side. Daryl cocked his head to look over at her. She didn't look at him. She simply sat nose turned up, gazing at the starry blanket above their heads. Carol's expression never changed. She sat stoic, eyes bright in the night.

She reached out again. Daryl didn't flinch away. He let her fingers curl over his hand, her thumb rubbing over his rough knuckles. Her delicate touch running over every cut, scrape and scar on his hand.

He understood.

Daryl and Carol sat in silence. Neither spoke a word. He took comfort in the quiet and the gentle touch of her hand on his. He needed this.

\----

The loud bang of a sniper rifle jolted Carol upright from where she had been sleeping. The sun's bright rays burned through Carol's eyelids as she was rudely awakened from her slumber. She sat back realizing she was in the guard tower cabin. She'd been wrapped up in Daryl's jacket she'd brought to him earlier that night. She yawned and stretched out, gently rubbing her eyes and rolling the kinks out of her stiff neck. She shrugged his jacket over her shoulders and exited the cabin.

Rick stood at the corner of the tower, sniper rifle drawn up looking out towards the woods. He thumbed a new bullet into the chamber and closed the ejection port.

"He didn't want to wake you."

"How thoughtful." She remarked.

Carol pulled the jacket closer to her body as she moved next to Rick, the morning chill sending a violent rattle through her bones. She laughed to herself as she swam in Daryl's jacket. Despite him being slim in stature, it was hard to forget his broad shoulders filled the jacket with ease.

"Is he going to be OK?" Rick hesitantly asked. He glanced to Carol, concern in his face.

Carol waited. She bit her bottom lip gently. "No, he's not." She responded. Her eyes scanned the tree-line. She could see rustling in the distance.

Rick nodded and shifted his weight back and forth uncomfortably. He needed Daryl to be at his best if need be for the meeting with the Governor. He couldn't have him with his head clouded with things. They all had to be on point.

Rick felt Carol place a hand on his arm. He looked to her. "Just let him deal with it on his own. He'll come back to us."

"I hope you're right."

Carol looked towards the tree line. She could see the flicker of a brightly colored arrow zipping through the woods. It met its mark in the body of a squirrel stuck to the tree it had been climbing. She watched as Daryl stalked closer towards it, ramming his knife in the skull of a walker attempting to steal the meal. He swiftly kicked its body away and claimed the squirrel hooking it next to the trope of squirrels dangling from his belt.

Daryl looked up towards where she and Rick stood. He put a hand to his eyes, shielding the sun from his view. They made eye contact. Carol smiled and raised her hand acknowledging that she saw him. He dipped his head to her and went tramping back into the woods.

“Daryl will come back. He's all alone now. We are all he has left now.” She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter immediately after "Arrow on the Doorpost" so seeing the finale with Carol and Daryl I was spazzing out hardcore. Just clarifying I did not take the idea from the season finale.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I initially wanted to write this chapter as a one-shot after watching “Arrow on the Doorpost”, but through some theory-crafting with a friend of mine, I came upon the conclusion of just incorporating it here. That's mainly the reason this is by far the shortest of my chapters. I find that it flows well into this story and I hope you all enjoy it. I know I had a bunch of feels writing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Daryl quickly began feeding bullets into a gun magazine. He let out a long stream of smoke as he took a drag from the cigarette hanging from his lip. He had been glad to find the pack of cigarettes he'd killed on the walker several days before. He had forgotten how the taste of a cigarette could calm the mind. However, his twitchy body was another story altogether. His fingers were fumbling with the bullets. Dropping a few onto his cot as they slipped from his trembling hands. One bounced off the cot and the sound of it rolling on the ground seemed to silence the chaos going on just outside the Prison walls. He quickly took the cigarette between his fingers and knocked the ashes from its tip and put it back to his lips. Time was precious, he had to get ready as quickly as possible.

Daryl quickly picked up the stray bullet and began working it back into the magazine once more. He exhaled another stream of smoke, and removed the cigarette, snubbing it out on the ground. He felt his nerves more relaxed having finished his smoke. He missed the taste of tobacco but being the end of the world, this kind of luxury was simply few and far between. A loud sniper shot went off and Daryl froze. His eyes danced about his cell as he slowly turned his head to make sure the fighting hadn't made its way into the Prison. He could hear his pulse beat rhythmically in his head almost thrumming out the shots popping off in the background.

Daryl chewed the inside of his cheek till it felt raw and tasted of copper. Having spent too much time listening for signs of a push forward, he went back to the task at hand. He finished one magazine and began working on another. He'd already filled both sets of quivers with fresh bolts. He'd spent the night before with a whetstone sharpening his buck knife. Everything had to be ready. Now.

They were going to war. Hell they were already at war. The Governor had caught them with their pants down. The gunshots had startled them, sending them into a panicked frenzy. Glenn had been the one to let them know, hollering and making as much racket as possible. He'd been on watch when the first shot rang out. Rick and Carl had taken off with Glenn outside to try and push them back as quickly as possible. The rest of the group were scrambling trying to help support the others in the front. Daryl had ducked into the Prison as everyone rushed outside. He had one thing he had to do. One thing that must be done.

He'd gathered as much ammunition as he could and filled Carol's bag with several handguns and a sharpened skinning knife he'd found in one of Merle's saddlebags on the chopper. He'd sheathed it into a squirrel skin he had fashioned to keep it from sticking her as she ran. It may not be as large and vicious as the one that hung at his belt but it would have to do. He stuffed his horse blanket into another bag that he'd filled with excess drugs that Carol could use in a bind if it came down to her becoming ill or injured.

Daryl's eyes roved over his cell once, then a second time, and then for a third and final time. He had to ensure that he had everything and anything necessary. Once he had told himself in his head several times that he had everything packed in the bags that was needed, he turned on his heel. Daryl crept into Carol's room where Judith lay asleep in her crib, oblivious to the war going on outside. Pure innocence. He brought his index and middle fingers together to his lips and gently pressed them to her forehead. Judith scrunched her face up as if she disagreed with him, drawing her hands up and clenching her tiny fists, but just as quickly falling back to sleep. He let out a soft chuckle, whispering, "Be good fer Carol, Asskicker."

Daryl tipped his head at the sleeping babe and slung his quiver and crossbow to his shoulder, picking up the bags he'd set on Carol's cot. He quickly grabbed the burgundy wrap that hung draped over the top bunk and threw it over his shoulder. He was headed down the steps of his perch, when Carol had run into the block panting, a rifle strapped to her shoulder. Her hair plastered to her scalp due to the heat and stress of the bullets hailing around them.

"What are you doing Daryl?" She asked panicked that he could even think of leaving during all the commotion outside.

Daryl quickly grabbed her by the shoulder and shoved the bags into her hands. "Listen ta me. Take Asskicker and take care o' her. Stay inside the prison as long as you have to."

"What are you talking about? We need everyone out there." She insisted, pointing towards the way she came.

Daryl shook his head firmly. "No. Carol, I don't want you out there. If shit goes South, I need you to be able to protect her." He snapped at her. "Son of a bitch caught us with our britches down. There's no time left."

"Daryl, I can't do that." Whispered Carol, her mouth falling open at the thought of leaving everyone behind with Judith.

"Yeah ya can and yer gonna HAVE to. We ain't losin' Asskicker. Look at me, I can signal you." Daryl caught her chin and forced her to look at him. Carol slowly made eye contact, her big blue eyes full of concern and fear. He began to whistle a call that echoed loud off the Prison walls. "Hear that and you get the hell outta here, got it?"

She furrowed her brow in confusion. "I can't just leave without you guys!”

Daryl snorted at her and snapped, "Just take my word and go when I use that call."

Carol's eyes shifted to the ground. She wasn't sure if she could do everything Daryl asked. What he asked of her was so much more than what she could handle. She had become strong over the course of the year, but what Daryl was asking she felt was just out of her comfort zone. She had always relied on him for support, but here he was asking HER for support in this crisis. Carol was going to be on her own if the fighting made its way into the prison. Daryl jerked her shoulder drawing her attention back to him, barking her name.

"Hey! Focus. Can't explain this again. Remember where we camped our first night off the farm? Once I give that call, head there. I've already put a map in yer bag. Use that and make yer way there."

Carol looked into Daryl's eyes. His blue gaze was stoic, but he would be lying if he didn't admit he was scared. She could see the crease in his brow and the gray whiskers that peppered his stubbled chin. The hollows of his eyes were deep and the scar beneath his eye still visibly pink with new skin healing over. The world had gone to shit and everyone had forgotten about Judith except Daryl. He really was a gentle man when it came down to it all. Caring for others, placing them before himself.

Outside they could faintly hear Rick and Glenn calling for them. Daryl gnashed his teeth. He could feel his heart hammering against his ribcage; the pace was unrelenting. The sounds of gunfire sounded closer. The Governor and his men were literally at their doorstep and here Daryl and Carol were standing and staring at each other, wasting time. Judith was now screaming in the background while bullets could be heard zipping and tearing apart the prison walls. Noise enveloping them, telling every fibers in their bodies to get out. Carol finally pulled the bags from Daryl's hands, their fingers brushing for a moment.

Daryl let out an exasperated sigh as he helped her position the wrap around her chest so she could hold Judith and the bags at the same time. He took the rifle as she grabbed the bags and threw them over her shoulders. Carol grunted at the weight she'd been given and took the rifle back from him.

“Here,” Daryl drawled as he handed Carol her Smith and Wesson. "It's hot."

Carol looked at Daryl, a gasp escaping her lips. He looked back at her. She thought she had lost it in the tombs when the walkers had been let loose into the Prison. Daryl motioned for her to take the revolver from him. Carol had to take it. There were no do-overs if things got crazy and they would. She hesitantly took the gun and put it into the holster at her hip.

"Take care of yerselves." He said, gently touching her shoulder. Daryl could feel himself shake, his breaths were in short bursts. He couldn't deny that he was terrified for her or himself, but he had to be strong for what was about to happen. He couldn't fall apart in fear of the unknown. And this certainly was unknown.

"Stay safe, please." She managed to choke out. The words had stuck to her throat. Carol felt that her saying such words were the same as putting a gun to his head and saying good-bye. It was final. She nodded her head at him, sucking her lip in to hold in her fear; her farewell. Carol turned and started to make her way up the stairs.

Daryl felt his heart tighten in his chest as he watched her go; the muscles constricting around his heart and making it impossible to breathe. The events of the night before playing over and over in his head. He could have told her, but he didn't. She said it but he didn't. He had tucked tail and ran like a scared child the moment she had uttered those words and he felt like a genuine asshole. Carol was giving him herself, but he just couldn't accept it. He had denied her affections in that single moment and here they were. Death's rattling breath against their necks and he had refused to admit the one thing he knew to be true.

"I'm glad you're back... Until you found me..." Her words echoed in his brain, rattling around like a noise you couldn't simply ignore. These were words he wouldn't ignore. Not now. Not this moment. She had meant them.

His fingers fidgeted at his hips. He scowled, uttering a string of curses under his breath. “Carol.” He finally barked.

Without realizing what Daryl was doing, he rushed towards her. He let his body move on its own. He grabbed Carol spinning her to face him. Daryl pawed her face in his hands and crushed his lips to hers in a rough kiss. His calloused fingers caressing her cheek as they slowly crept into her cropped hair. She relaxed as he slowed down, sighing back into his mouth.

If this was the last time he would ever see her... the last time he would ever have a moment to hold her, to make her feel needed, to show that he cared, that in his heart he loved her, it had to be now.

At first Carol's eyes had widened at Daryl's abrupt kiss with his chapped lips and prickly beard rubbing, but she quickly shut her eyes enjoying this single moment. She could taste the nicotine on his lips. Carol could hear her heart pounding in her ears, her fingers trembling as she placed a hand to his chest. She could feel the rapid beat of his drumming heart against the palm of her hand, sweat seeping through his shirt. Carol clutched his shirt tightly in her fingers, tears marking their way down her dirt-stained pallid cheeks.

"Please, don't leave me." She whispered as she drew her mouth from his lips, pressing her forehead against his. She dared not open her eyes. She couldn't bare to look him in the eye. She wouldn't, couldn't let him go if she did. "I need you, Daryl. I can't do this on my own."

“I'm sorry, but yer gonna have to...” He replied in a hoarse whisper. Voice scratchy like sandpaper in her ears. She could feel his hot breath on her lips and she wished she had more time with him. Carol wished she didn't have to rush perhaps their last moment together.

A door flew open and the outside world flooded inside the Prison. Screaming from people, walkers, bullets? Did it matter? Everyone was the same. A mass of flesh and blood. No one was safe. She opened her eyes and saw the fear and rage fill his gaze. Daryl tore away from Carol and shoved her towards his perch.

"Go!" He yelled. "Git Judith! Carol! Go!"

With those last words, Daryl puffed his cheeks and drew his crossbow to his shoulder running towards the noise and out of the block. The last bit she saw of Daryl was the clipping of his sewn angel wings on the back of his leather vest and a quick glance he'd thrown over his shoulder. Carol could hear the thudding noise of bodies falling to the ground and the door shut once more with a sickening slam. Silence encompassed the space between her and Daryl's absence.

Carol hurried up the steps and picked up Judith. She'd been screaming for what seemed like hours, but had only been a minute in recollection. Everything happened so fast. It was impossible to figure out how long Daryl had left her in the cell block. She cooed softly and bounced Judith in her arms, bags still slung on her shoulders.

The call. It echoed loud.

Carol felt her heart sink, as if the blood had run from her veins, and she felt like she needed to heave. She was crying again. She clamped a hand to her mouth, cradling Judith with one arm. She could feel her knees start to buckle and she grabbed for the bunk bar. Carol shook the feeling off, frantically wiping her eyes dry. There was no time to fall apart. She had to get moving. Gently Carol put Judith in the wrap at her chest. She fit perfectly.

Quickly she drew her handgun, pulling the hammer back. As quietly as she could, Carol crept down the stairs and out of the Prison. Never stealing a glance back. If she did, she knew she would never have the courage to leave. There was no turning back. Hell or high water she had to leave everyone behind. Even Daryl.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter I had a lot of feels writing it. Want to thank a friend of mine for being my support in bouncing off ideas and really getting my mind jogged to write the previous chapter. He and I Caryl hard when we're together, lol!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Carol sat on edge. Knife clutched deftly in her fingers. Judith lay next to her wrapped tightly in Daryl's blanket-poncho soundly sleeping. Every slight crunch of bramble and snap of twigs sent her senses in complete alert overdrive. She hadn't slept in the few days she had sat waiting for Daryl, Rick or anyone for that matter to meet back with her. She kept constant vigil with Judith, spending all her time caring for the baby in hopes of preventing her from wailing and letting their presence be known to the walkers meandering nearby.

Despite the fall chill, Carol made no fire. She had learned how on numerous occasions watching Daryl make them during the winter months. She was hesitant to start one in the event that the Woodbury people were out hunting for her and Judith. Or making their location known to the non-living things moving about in the darkness. She refused to let them know she had escaped. To let the others down by getting caught and killed. To show Daryl that she could be as strong as he thought her to be. To make him proud of her, if he ever made it back to find her.

She bit down on her lip to keep herself from whimpering. There was no way Carol could last more than a few more days on what little rations had been packed. Daryl must have assumed that they would be back for her sooner than that. About a week's worth of formula had been packed, but being that babies went through feedings so often it was running out faster than intended. But Carol had to wait. What more could she do? She couldn't just up and leave. What if the others made it back and she was already gone? What then? How would they find her? Carol had to just tough it out until the others came to retrieve her and Judith... Whenever that was.

The day was muggy. The sky a solemn gray. The clouds that lingered about could have been misconstrued as the sky itself with how ugly it looked. Carol feared it would storm soon and with nowhere to go things could turn for the worse with Judith in tow. Carol slumped against the stony wall, dirt and moss scratching along her jacket, knife still held tight in her hands. Things simply felt hopeless. What was she to do?

Carol let out a long sigh through her nostrils and closed her eyes for a moment. She could feel her heart fall into her stomach as she sat crouched on the balls of her feet. She had tried desperately to not think of her group mates not coming back, but the possibility was very real at this point. The Governor couldn't have come at a better time to flank their guard to send them in a frantic chaos. If his initial plan had been to scatter them and whittle them down that way: mission accomplished.

Carol's eyes fluttered open and she looked over to Judith who slept peacefully with a pacifier lolling out of her mouth. She feebly smiled at this and reached over to remove it. At the slightest movement of her pacifier, Judith was in disagreement and in the process of letting out a loud wail. Quickly Carol put the pacifier back in Judith's mouth and began rubbing her belly, gently cooing to calm her. Any alarming sound could send a number of walkers in the vicinity headed for them. So far, Carol had done well to keep Judith quiet, which was not terribly difficult. She was a rather quiet baby to begin with.

She smiled fondly at Judith, recalling something Beth had mentioned to her a while ago. Carol had been surprised to hear that the day Judith was born, Daryl had taken up the initiative to go out on a run for formula and had quieted the baby without effort. Despite his gruffness he had had interacting with Sophia when she had been alive, Carol had a hard time fathoming that he had been so gentle with Judith. From what Beth had said, he looked like a 'proud and scared papa' holding his baby for the first time. She smiled warmly at Judith and brushed light fingers across her little fluff of hair. How could he not be gentle with something so precious as this existing in this world? All she had was Rick, Carl, and the rest of their ragtag family. Someone had to look out for her.

She sighed once more, eyes closing shut. She was so tired and exhausted. Her body ached, fingers were numb, feet were sore, her back stiff. She knew she had a few bruises from fending off the few walkers that ventured too close. Every inch of her body ached something awful. Her thoughts began to meander elsewhere as she waited with the knife in hand prepared to defend her campsite. Carol wondered where her family was, if they were OK, if they made it out alive. Were they safe? She prayed for the first time in a long time that they would be on their way. That they would have safe travels. That everyone had found a new place for them to shelter. That she would see his face once more.

Carol couldn't stop thinking about Daryl's chapped lips, his hands with the thick callouses on his finger tips. Being a redneck, she knew he must have constantly worked with his hands. She imagined before the world went to hell in a hand basket, Daryl may have been a car mechanic with his grease rag that always hung from his pocket or perhaps a construction worker. He knew his tools and was skilled when it came to such things. Or maybe he was just a hunter. She could never be sure. Daryl did not speak much of his life prior to the end of the world. His hands would always be rough and calloused from blisters. They could never be soft, however, his touch had been gentle and feather light on her skin. She had not opened her eyes and she wished she had. She wanted to gaze upon his blue eyes for one last time...

There were so many things that had flooded her senses all at once after she'd pulled away from his gesture. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. Words she knew she should have told him so many times before. She wanted to thank him for everything he had done for her. Everything he had taught her. She wanted to thank him above all else for believing in her. Carol didn't want to move away from him, but she did. She had to. The Governor's men had made it into the Prison. His heart had pounded furiously beneath clammy skin causing her own muscles to tense up.

The night before the prison had been taken flashed in her head. She had gone to his cell to seek comfort. Carol knew she was going to push his boundaries but she didn't care. If they were only a day's way from not being around alive together, she would take advantage of it and not waste it. She had to know that he felt the same way as she did. After all they had been through? Carol had to let him know that she loved him and that whatever happened she was grateful that he had been hers.

Of course, he had been skittish. Carol knew that he was resistant to physical touch. It was his kryptonite. He had gone rigid under the palm of her hand, but did not flee. She had been grateful for his courage in that moment. For someone so fearless against a dozen or so walkers, Carol could feel him tremble beneath her gentle touch in an instant, hear his breath coming out in shaky puffs. She knew he wanted to runaway but she wouldn't let him. Carol had leaned in to his face, gently brushing her lips against his. She caught his eyes widening and it made her stomach turn. She saw the fear set in his eyes and Carol was well aware of what she was doing to him. Thinking better of the situation, she softly nuzzled her head into Daryl's chest and pulled her body close to his taking a long shuddering breath.

A branch snapped and Carol's thoughts suddenly disappeared. Her image of Daryl gone and her instinct to survive kicked in. She drew her knife up in front of her and poised to thrust like Daryl had shown her, other hand tucked close to her chin if she needed to act defensively. Slowly, she crept towards the noise, ears pricking at each sound.

The cracking of twigs and the crunching of brambles echoed loud in the deafening silence. She edged as close as she could to the end of her enclosure still keeping a hawk-like gaze on Judith. She pressed her back up against the stone wall trying to make herself as flat as possible. The noises grew closer and her heart beat loud into her ears. She feared she would drown in the noise and would wind up getting caught.

Carol took one last look at Judith swallowing the lump in her throat realizing that this could possibly be the last time she ever see her and lunged from around the corner using her momentum to overthrow the attacker. It hissed and growled under her pounce,  spitting up a concoction of coagulated blood and rotting teeth. Its jaw dangling by a few stringy muscles of flesh, hands flailing wildly as the two toppled to the ground. Carol quickly thrust her knife repeatedly into the walker's skull till nothing but a slaughtered mess was left of its head. She sat on top of its body with wild eyes dancing about its now further mutilated corpse.

Carol let out a shuddering gasp and sheathed the knife. Slipping off the side of its body, she kicked it away from her in disgust. She crawled backwards until her back was pressed firm against the comfort of the stone wall. She dropped her head to her shoulder and cast a glance over to Judith who slumbered unfazed by all the commotion. She let out an incredulous chuckle at the hilarity of it all. Of course she would still be sleeping. Judith slept like a damned rock. Carol's chest was heaving with deep shaky breaths. She could feel the adrenaline coursing through her body. She brought her twitchy hands to her head and began raking her fingers through her shaggy cropped hair trying to hold in her mewls of help. She closed her eyes as tears began welling up at the corners.

"I can't do this. I can't do this." She whispered repeatedly.

That had been the 6th walker to venture too close to her camp. It wouldn't be long before she would be encountered by a herd and then what? Carol knew she couldn't stand a chance with more than one. Something had to be done. And soon.

Carol knew that if Daryl had caught her saying such a thing, he'd be all over her in a second. He'd have an accusing finger in her face telling her that she was dead wrong and to look at where she was and how far she had gotten on her own. He would be right. It had been almost a week and here Carol was: alive and alone with an infant in walker-infested territory. Surviving, if you could call it that.

She had to keep going. If not for herself, but for the baby that had been placed in her protective care. She let out a deep breath wiping her eyes and crawled over towards the walker she had just stabbed to death. Carol looked over its body and began rummaging through its pockets. Each time she would cautiously plunge her hand inside a pocket she held her breath anticipating the walker to reanimate and take a chunk of flesh off her bones. But each time it never happened and she grew less fearful of what she believed to happen.

Carol managed to loot a few bullets, a matchbook and half a packet of cigarettes. She smiled sheepishly at the matchbook being grateful that there were still a few sticks remaining as she shook the box. She didn't care that he had a wallet full of hundred dollar bills or that his name had been Herman Parish. The matches were a life-saver in this world. His other materialistic possessions meant nothing to her if they couldn't help her survive to the next day. She pocketed the items for now and grabbed hold of one of the limbs of the walker and drug it close to the entrance of her camp.

Andrea had mentioned that when she and Michonne had been out on their own, she had a pair of walkers that had acted as a repellent to other walkers from getting too close. Almost in a way creating a barrier of protection even if it was just a small one. Carol didn't really care. Any relief was better than none at all and she needed as much as she could get. Judith did not make things easy.

Carol dropped the limb of the walker she dragged and moved to take a seat next to Judith. She unsheathed the knife and began her watch once more. Eyes continuing to dance over every falling leaf and sound of crunching bramble. It would be another long rueful night.

\---

Carol felt herself toppling over. She jerkily caught herself, snapping her eyes open. She'd nodded off again. She lightly thumped her head against the stone wall trying to find strength to stay awake. There was no way she could keep this up any more. She needed to move. There was enough formula for maybe one or two bottles; after the formula was gone, there would be no hope in keeping Judith quiet at that point. It would only be a matter of time before walkers would come for them and that was it.

She slumped down and looked over at Judith, big blue eyes observing every movement of the overhanging tree branches. Her hands reached out to catch some of the falling leaves, flailing in all directions. She smiled that big smile she got when she was excited and Carol couldn't help but smile in return.

It had to be today.

Carol reached over to her bag and unzipped one of the pockets, pulling the map out. She unfolded it carefully and smoothed out its corners as she looked it over. Her eyes hovered over where Daryl had scrawled in shaky print:

_make your way here. -- > stay quiet. be safe. i'll come for y'all in time._

She felt like her world was crumbling beneath her. He'd written that hoping he'd make it before someone else did. How long was she to wait? There couldn't be any more waiting. Judith was her priority. She had to find formula. Her fingers ghosted around where Daryl had circled her current location, slowly she began tracing along a path... There. If she could somehow make it to the highway, there might be formula and perhaps a car for her to bunk down in. Carol could then rest up and be of more use to Judith with more strength behind her belt and a decent night's rest.

It was settled. This was her plan of action. Get to the highway. Find formula for Judith. Find a safe place to bunk and hope someone she knew found her. Swiftly she began packing up what items she had pulled out of her bags. There was maybe another four to five hours left of daylight. If she wanted to even attempt to make it to the highway she needed to move fast and immediately. Carol reached and took hold of Daryl's poncho. She stared at its bright pattern, fingers tracing over the shapes in the fabric. Wisps of his hair caught in her fingers, his hair had grown long over the summer. She had tried coaxing him to let her cut his hair, but he outright refused claiming he could do it himself. She smiled putting the poncho in one of her bags. She found the burgundy wrap and slung it around her shoulder.

Carol picked up the bags and went to tuck Judith in the wrap. The baby cackled and without a beat, Carol shushed Judith. This was pertinent that she stay quiet. She stuck a hand in her pocket and pulled out its contents. Perfect. Carol wedged the blue pacifier into Judith's mouth and immediately she quieted down, a large grin spreading across her chubby cheeks.

Carol's feet moved of their own volition taking her towards her destination. She went with where her feet directed her but then stopped. Carol didn't know how Daryl could track her if she was taking cautious steps through the brush. She knew he could track her if she made obvious footprints, but she was trying not to be heard. She couldn't exactly go around snapping branches or tramping through the forest like she had huge combat boots. There had to be another way. She looked to her hand having not returned the contents of her pocket back to its rightful place. Her eyes lit up and she knew what she had to do. She brought the necklace to her lips and began sawing through the threading with her teeth. Judith's hands clambering to get hold of the pretty beads. Carol felt the thread go limp in her mouth and made sure to catch the bright plastic beads before they fell to the ground and her idea was lost.

The beads pooled in her hand and she hurriedly tucked them into her pocket. Losing a single one could make tracking her all the more difficult. Each one precious. She kept one clutched tightly in her hand as she made her way through the forest. Her free hand protectively held Judith with Daryl's crude skinning knife pointed towards her path of direction.

After a minute of traveling, she dropped the bright bead and took another from within the depths of her pocket. "Hope he knows the story of 'Hansel and Gretel'." She murmured aloud to no one in particular as she moved quietly through the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. For updates on when I post my fics next please head to my tumblr blog at the link on my profile page. As always, read and review! Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the long delay in this chapter. I have had so much on my plate work-wise that I was bluntly burnt out on ideas on how to jump-start this chapter. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks for continuing to support this story! As always constructive criticism is always welcome. Read, review, enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

He opened his eyes. His heart pounded in his head loud like a deafening bass drum. His body was rigid and ached all over, joints, bones, muscles... Everything. Hell, if he could feel pain in his fingernails he was sure he would feel it. He tried propping himself up onto his elbows but his right shoulder gave out beneath him and he fell back onto the cot. He let out a small yelp at the sharp dulling pain from his wound and the rush of air leaving his lungs. He clenched his jaw shut as the pain coursed through his shoulder and down to his fingertips. A strong tingling sensation creeping up and down his arm like thousands of tiny spiders making their way up his body.

"Fuckin' christ." He hissed as he maneuvered onto his left shoulder to get an indicator of where he was. Daryl rubbed the sleep from out of his eyes with the heel of his hand rolling onto his side, looking about the room he was occupying. He looked to still be in his own cell in the prison, his leather vest hanging off the top bunk and quivers sitting neatly in the corner near the sink. He let out a small sigh of relief as he forced himself to sit up, mustering what little strength he had.

Daryl moved to the edge of the bed, grabbing hold of the bunk bar and hoisted himself to his feet. The floor was cool beneath his toes as he gingerly took a step forward. His legs shook under his weight but he would make do with using the walls for support. His fingers clung to the walls trying to find gripping on its smooth surface. He shakily made his way out of his cell and down the catwalk a few feet down the row.

"Carol?" He called as he leaned against the wall trying to catch his breath. His throat parched and his lungs struggling to take in air. He garnered no response causing his pulse to increase its rapid beat. He moved just a little bit faster. "Carol?" He barked again, hoping the sternness in his tone would draw her to him.

"Daryl?"

He looked down towards the direction of the voice and saw Maggie standing in the middle of the cell block. She looked shocked and a little happy to see him up and about, but was hesitant to greet him. Her eyes moving from what he knew to be Carol's empty cell then back to him.

"Where's the baby? Where's Carol?" He asked more earnestly than he wanted to sound. He began making his way back and towards the stairs where Maggie stood.

She bit her bottom lip, averting her eyes to the ground. "We haven't gone to get them." She drawled, fidgeting with the cloth wrapped around her wrist, pulling the loose strands from the frayed ends.

Daryl stopped at the height of the stairs and glowered down at the young woman. "What?" He grunted, trying to hold back snapping at her. His eyes slowly drawing down into narrowed slats.

Maggie removed her attention to the ground and returned back to Daryl, whom she could clearly see was seething at the thought of Carol and Judith left out in the forest on their own. She couldn't lie to him. What would be the point? He would just find out anyway and all hell would rain down upon them either way. "They're still out there."

Daryl didn't want to hear their excuses. He ambled back into his cell and threw his jacket with the leather stitched sleeves on, vest layered on top. He shoved his feet into his boots and stood up quickly doing a once-over of what he would need for his journey making a mental check list of things to grab. He made for his crossbow and looked up to see Maggie standing in his doorway. She had a pleading look on her face, brows furrowed that he would catch the hint and stop. Daryl just ignored her concern and continued looking for his things and throwing them into a backpack. Slinging his crossbow to his shoulder he pushed past her, brushing his right leg alongside the frame of the door wincing. His fingers flew at the pain realizing that he had narrowly missed that stray bullet and instead received a deep graze across his thigh during the firefight. He glanced back at Maggie who moved in to apply pressure to his leg, but he quickly moved away from her, hurriedly making his way down the stairs.

"Hold on a minute. You can't just leave like that. You've got to heal." Cried Maggie, rushing out after him.

"I don't fuckin' care." Daryl snarled, clutching his shoulder. He knew blood was beginning to seep through the bandage that was wound around his shoulder. He could feel the sticky warmth starting to trickle down his torso. He'd ripped his stitches getting up and carelessly moving about his cell grabbing articles for his trip to retrieve Carol and Judith. He had just woken up after being knocked unconscious for the last few days. The combination of lack of sleep and exhaustion had nailed him after having been shot in the shoulder and the impact from falling from the catwalk had not helped either. He remembered that well. His head still throbbed from the large bruised lump where he had met impact with the ground.

"We should have been out there ta get them days ago! Y'all left them out there to die!" He bit back in an accusatory tone, stomping towards the entrance to the prison yard.

"Daryl!" Yelled Rick who was striding alongside him with a slight limp in his step.

He stopped and turned slightly cocking his head to the side to get a good look at the ex-Sheriff's deputy. There was a bandage wound around his head and a collar of purple lacing his neck. He looked just as bad as he himself felt. "Look we need to do this calmly. Level heads, remember? Shit's bound to go wrong if we just barrel on through." Rick coaxed in a gentle tone trying to ease Daryl out of his warpath.

Daryl bit his bottom lip trying to stop himself from snapping. He shut his eyes slowly counting back from 10 attempting to quell his temper. It bothered him beyond all reason that they had not gone out to go retrieve Carol and Judith. That and they wanted him to calm the fuck down. What the fuck was wrong with them? He may not have the full picture having just woken up, but he knew that if he hadn't been out for the count he would have already had them back in the safety of the prison himself wounded or otherwise. He had only packed enough for as much as a week and that was pushing it. He'd meant for that to be a last resort not a literal idea of how long before he'd come for them.

"Fine." He hissed between clenched teeth, trying to bite back his urge to say "the hell with it all" and just continue going without their help.

Rick put a hand to Daryl's uninjured shoulder. "Let's get a bag ready of supplies. You and I will move in an hour."

"You can barely keep pace with me. How're we 'posed to track 'em with you slowin' me down?" Daryl huffed.

Rick's grip tightened on Daryl's shoulder and that killer stare he had seen all too often was focused at the angered red-neck. "That's my daughter out there. We leave in one hour."

Thinking better of getting into fisticuffs over something trivial, Daryl took this as a sign to back off. "Fine." He snapped and the two parted ways prepping for the excursion beyond the prison walls.

\----

"Son of a bitch." Snapped Rick as he kicked the door shut on the green mini SUV. He took a step back shaking his head in anger, kicking up dirt from the gravel road with his boots.

Daryl stopped what he was doing and turned to look at Rick. "What?" He barked irritated by their leader's sudden outburst.

"Fuckin' out of gas."

"Yer kiddin'. What happened to all the gas Glenn siphoned no more 'an a few days ago? Where'd it all go?"

Rick sighed heavily and tapped his boots against the ground in agitation. "When we went out to the feed mill to meet with the Governor. Glenn didn't find much when he went out for that run the day before. We've been running on empty for a few days now or close to."

Daryl clicked his tongue against his teeth thinking hard about what their options were at this point. Not much to be done if there was no gas to be had. He began pacing back and forth, hands on his hips as he turned each thought over carefully in his head. Dissecting every plausible option and outcome from each, weighing out the pros and cons till he was blue in the face.

"I'll do it." He breathed at last, bringing his gaze to rest on the weary Sheriff's deputy.

Rick focused his attention at Daryl, absently shaking his head with fervor. "No. So many things could go wrong. It ain't safe. We already know what happens when one of us goes alone. No. We stick together."

Daryl snorted in disapproval. "What other options we got at this point, huh? Walkin' around out there with our asses hangin' out for them biters to come after us with a baby hollerin' in the thick of the woods?" He snarled moving closer to Rick, challenging his decision. It would literally be like ringing a dinner bell and Rick knew it. Daryl knew he couldn't admit to it, but their trip had the possibility of being a one-way journey, if they didn't make their choice accordingly.

"That is my daughter out there. I get why you're so insistent on being the one on the front lines but this isn't your fault. You need to stop blaming yourself for shit like this. You did what you had to. For the both of them." Rick intoned calmly stepping back from Daryl, their eyes still holding on the other. Neither wanting to back down.

He could taste the blood in his mouth from having chewed his cheek to the point of breaking skin. Daryl let out a frustrated sigh, raking his fingers through his hair, trying to rationalize their options for a second time. He came to the same conclusions over and over again. Bike or foot. There was nothing else. He shook his head and took to his thumb chewing the skin at the corner till there was nothing left but torn skin.

"It's either trekking on foot or I've gotta go it alone on the bike. We ain't got options or time. Unless you've got something better, that's all I've got." He said starting his pacing again.

Rick stared at the ground for a good long while trying to find another solution to their dilemma hidden in the dirt. He swallowed and shut his eyes realizing that Daryl was right by and by. There were no other options at this point. They were still recovering from the attack on the Prison. They had barely had any time to celebrate their victory. No more waiting. No more debating. A choice had to be made, whether Rick approved of it or not. "Alright... You'll take the bike." He held out his hand. Daryl stopped his pacing and looked to Rick's outstretched gesture then back to him. He nodded and shook Rick's hand before being pulled into a hug. "Bring 'em back... Safe."

Rick clapped him on the shoulder before releasing Daryl to resume packing some of his supplies in the saddlebags of the chopper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hope you all enjoyed it. Sorry for it being so short.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates. I'm trying to space out my updates on my two fics, once a week and alternating. So this week is If Tomorrow, next week will be White Blank Page. Let me know how you liked this chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

The growl of the Triumph echoed through the forest as he rode closer to the rendezvous point, wind tousling his hair about his face. His eyes held fast on the road, but his mind was distracted floating about elsewhere. The inside of Daryl's bottom lip was raw having chewed it incessantly since he'd left the confines of the prison gates. His mind was wandering to Carol and Judith repeatedly and it was starting to drive him crazy. He needed to find them to ease himself out of his fussing and fast. Merle would have told him to stop getting his panties all up in a twist and Daryl knew he was right. He needed to take everything in stride like he always did.

However, Carol's words seemed trapped in his head as they played like a broken record player over and over again. He felt like a fool, a scared fool at that. She had told him things and he had remained silent like that night. They had sought each others comfort in the hours waning before they had anticipated Woodbury to strike. Hell, it had been days before they were assuming the Governor would launch his assault on the Prison. They had neglected the Governor's terms and kept Michonne in their protective custody. She had earned her place in their group and despite the offer of peace, Rick had decided against giving up one of their own. It wasn't like if they had bothered giving up the scowling woman that the Governor would just leave them be. It would be only a matter of time before the Governor would come for them and remove the impending threat that inhabited the prison. Men like that didn't care about the terms they set forth. They knew and felt threats when they saw them and Daryl understood that his group was one to contend with.

Carol's words continued to linger. They bothered him like a mosquito bite that wouldn't stop itching despite how much and how hard he scratched. He huffed in exasperation realizing that his worrying would get him nowhere. He just had to find his calm state. He had to stop focusing on what he couldn't do and worry about what he could, which was steer his bike out of the way of meandering walkers in the road. Not paying attention was something he typically did not do. He was always observant of everything going on around him. Now, his thoughts weren't with him. They were flitting back to Carol's well-being. This could spell a recipe for disaster if he kept up this daydreaming. He swerved out of the way, leaning his body into the dip, and around the walker with no real effort, straightening up and continuing his way on down the dusty road.

He was getting closer. He could feel it in his bones how close he was to making it to the dilapidated stone walls they had hunkered down in their night after the farm. He was maybe fifteen more minutes away and he would have Carol and Judith on their way back to the prison. The thought made his chest swell with a sense of pride, but it was short-lived when he thought longer about the situation that he had thrust them all into. He swallowed the lump in his throat wondering if he had done the right thing in that moment, made the right call in those seconds when Woodbury was busting through their doors.

Daryl was internally beating himself up again having only packed enough rations for a few days at most for Carol and as much as he could figure a baby would need for Judith. That was a whole other territory for him and he had no clue as to the frequency of a baby's feed times and the amount they ate. It was a whole other monster he had no part of. He had only taken to Judith the day she had been born because no one else had the sense to do it. They were all still so fragile from the events of the day that none of them had it in them to do much of anything but mourn their dead and wonder what they were to do next. Rick had swiped up his axe and machete and had plowed into the herd of walkers that lingered in the depths of the Prison letting loose his burning rage over Lori's death.

Nope, not him though. Daryl couldn't just let them give up so easily. That wasn't him. If there was a way to make it, he would find one and he would make it happen, no matter the cost. He was a fighter and giving up wasn't something he knew how to do.

Stubbornness. He had picked that up quickly from Merle. He may not have appreciated the way Merle had tried raising him, but being stubborn was one thing he knew best of all and learned the fastest from his big brother. It made it hard for him to willingly back down from anything and this group needed that now. There could be no more tip-toeing or any other Mickey-mouse bullshit excuses for allowing things to carry on as they were.

He could see the bend at the end of the road where their car trail had come to a sudden stop that day. His jaw clenched and could feel the muscles in his neck go taut at this sight coming more into view. A queasy feeling was crawling through his stomach as he began down-shifting, slowly creeping to a stop just at the bend in the road. He let go of the clutch and throttle, turning the bike off with the flick of his wrist. With a sweep of his leg, Daryl threw the kick-stand up and rest the bike, swinging his leg over the seat to stand. He pulled his gloves off, tucking them into his back pocket as his eyes surveyed the area, ears taking in the sounds or lack of.

Daryl could hear nothing. There were no distant birds singing, nor the sound of insects chittering. Everything was quiet. He could feel his breathing pick up, nervousness beginning to set in. He carefully removed his crossbow from the back of his bike, drawing the string back and loaded a bolt, pulling it to his shoulder as he began to stalk towards the wall. He took cautious steps as he moved forward, trying to keep the crunching sound of leaves to a bare minimum.

Daryl's eyes roved over the ground taking note of the trails that moved in and around the stone walls. There had been recent activity, several sets of footprints leading to and from the forest. He nodded his head as he turned the corner to a walker, its face smashed against the wall. Brain matter was strewn about the leaves and broken twigs as he knelt down trying to get an indication of how recent the kill was. His fingers rubbed over some of the gore, its slippery cool texture mushing up in his hands. He flicked his hand down, ridding his fingers of the gack, a sense of urgency crawling into the pit of his stomach. That was when he caught sight of the large foot tracks that were entering into the enclosure. He got to his feet, drawing his crossbow to his shoulder again.

"Carol?" He barked as he walked into the enclosed space of the stone walls. He stopped in his tracks, crossbow dropping to his side.

"Fuck." Daryl hissed under his breath as he kicked up a flurry of leaves into the air. She was gone. He stomped back and forth, pacing a bit trying to get a grasp on himself. He had to calm down. He couldn't let this rile him up. He had to just assess what happened. He brought the heel of his hand to his forehead, before repeatedly thumping himself in the head.

Daryl inhaled through his nostrils and let out a strained exhale. He did this several times before he felt his anger ebb away. He stalked to the corners of the enclosed space looking around to see if he could find any indication of where Carol may have gone. He noticed a few walkers that had been piled up near the back where some may have tried entering at one point, taking observation of them. One was a particularly heavy set fellow and he felt himself grin sheepishly at it, knowing Carol had been the one to take the sonofabitch out all on her own.

That was when he caught it. The bright colored bead standing out amongst the fall colors of the leaves strewn about the ground. He took a knee and picked the bright blue bead up into his hand, fingers rolling it around his palm. It took him a moment to recall where he had seen the bead before, but that didn't matter to Daryl. The bead gave him a sense of relief knowing, hoping, that this had to be Carol's trail. He put it into his pocket and moved forward noticing another less smaller bead that had been dropped several yards away. The color of the beads were not hard to miss in this brush. He could see faint foot tracks trailing beneath the bead trail; the set of tracks being small in comparison to the other set he had stumbled across earlier.

"Carol." He breathed, picking the next bead up. Something was not quite right with the next bead. He removed the first from his pocket and examined the two together; one was shaped like a large oval and the other like a sphere. It took him a second before he understood what the beads belonged to: a Rosary.

Daryl's mouth pursed and he realized where he had seen the beads. The first night Sophia had gone missing, Carol had pulled a pretty blue beaded rosary from her pocket and prayed. He'd snorted at the gesture knowing that her prayer wouldn't be answered. In all the years he had prayed for his Daddy to get what was coming to him, his prayers had gone unanswered and he gave up believing in the Almighty. He never would have thought in all his years that some stupid rosary would be the one thing to bring him closer to finding Carol and Judith alive.

He nodded absently realizing that he would have to go on foot now. He let out a sigh and made his way back to his bike. He would just have to hope that when he came back it would still be where he left it. Daryl shouldered his crossbow wincing at the dull pain throbbing again and began rolling the Triumph off the road and up towards the stone enclosure. Better off the road than on it. Daryl gently ran a hand over the tank of the SS lightning logo, drumming his fingers along the black gloss. He set off in the direction Carol had gone, hoping the extra set of tracks he had seen were not following after. Hoping that those extra set of tracks weren't hunting her.

\---

Carol breathed softly as she held Judith close to her chest, her back pressed up against a tree. She tried to keep her breaths steady and soft. There were others in the forest with her. She could hear the sounds of twigs snapping and loud rustling of leaves moving about the forest. These sounds were not the normal shuffling she had grown accustomed to hearing when a walker was approaching. These noises were hurried and deliberate, loud panting accompanying the heavy foot falls.

She was unsure if she wanted to move. She couldn't be certain that these people were friendly. Without someone with her, Carol was a perfect target for walkers and humans to easily overpower her and take advantage of. She gulped fully realizing just how weak  and powerless she really was. She needed to get out of the forest and near the interstate immediately. The sooner she was able to regroup with her friends, the sooner she would be out of harms way. She was close. She knew this. Carol had passed the little creek that Sophia had been hiding in when she had been chased by walkers. Rick had described the place he had last left her in great detail and this was it. The area left a sour taste in her mouth when she had crept by knowing that this was where her little girl had found her demise.

Carol couldn't do that now. She couldn't dwell on the past. She had to get over that hill in her life and move on. She had someone else she had to protect and someone else relying on her to be strong. The rustling grew faint over time as she waited with bated breaths against the comfort of the tree. There were still glints of gold in the sky from what she could see, even so-- dusk would come soon. She needed to get away as quickly as possible. Carol desperately needed to get to that interstate. There would be cars that she could hide in for the night and when the morning came she could go looting for formula and food.

Finding the nerve to finally move, she left the comfort of the trunk. Carol set off back in the direction she had been heading before seeking the tree for protection. She could feel Judith's eyes gaze up at her in wonderment as she pulled the Bowie knife up in defense. Carol tried mimicking the way Daryl stalked, trying to balance her baggage as she tried keeping an even steady pace crouched low. The creaky popping sounds of her knees made her wince at the noise, knowing full well that this couldn't be good for her joints. The fatigue of her stalking would add to her already exhausted body, but she pressed forward despite the pain. She couldn't "bitch out" as Daryl affectionately put it. She refused to.

Carol had always thought herself the burden of the group, not being able to do much beyond the menial housewife tasks such as laundry and cooking. Although those jobs were important, she wasn't particularly strong like Andrea who could fend for herself if attacked by a walker or fire a weapon relatively well. She had learned off and on when Rick and Daryl had time to teach the other women on the safety and usage of guns. She wasn't the best shot, but she had gotten better and Daryl had noticed, suggesting that she take guard duty shifts every once in awhile.

He seemed to be her biggest fan. A smile tugged at her lips as she found a small burst of strength propel herself forward, her pace a little faster than before. Daryl was all the motivation she needed to push herself towards the interstate. It was only a little further. She could see the crest of the ravine through the thicket of trees up ahead. The purples and oranges swirled high above the horizon of the road and its oxidized rail that lingered like a victory line for Carol to reach. A swell of hope surged through her body as she began sidestepping up the ravine, taking careful attention to the precious bundle huddled against her chest.

"Only a little more," she murmured under her breath as she climbed to the interstate, fingers clasping tight to the rail as she pulled herself up and over the metal. A sigh and groan escaping Carol's chapped lips, a smile beaming forth.

She had made it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **As always, read and review! Thank you all for the continued support!**


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was incredibly hard to write and was not beta'd. I really wanted to get this out sooner, but again as such my work life makes this difficult. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Please read and review!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

His arm was stiff; had been since he had started his trek from the rendezvous point to track down Carol. The pain in his arm was a dull throbbing sensation sending prickles of pins and needles throughout his arm and down to his fingertips. At some point after climbing over a fallen tree trunk and getting his crossbow string caught in the brambles, Daryl had pulled his stitches. The sharp stinging pain had sent him collapsing to his knees with shaky breaths. Maybe Maggie had been right. Maybe he should have rested more before leaving to find Carol and the baby.

The hunter let out a heavy sigh trying his best to steady his breathing as he pushed himself back onto his feet. Regretting the thought that Maggie may have been right about his leave, Daryl absently shook his head and took off after the next blue bead. Nope. He wouldn't stop. They would have to bury his stubborn ass six feet under and then some to keep him from going after Carol. Now that was something he was sure of. It had after all been his idea that he had sent them out in the woods in the first place and he would be damned if any harm befell them all because he made a rash decision.

Daryl let the thought simmer in his brain and felt a surge of anger burst forth. No fuckin' way. No more stopping and no more pussy-footing his injuries. He couldn't afford to waste any more time than he already had trying to nurse his shoulder and leg. He could hear Merle's voice in his head chiding him to suck it up and stop being a little bitch. What was he: a fighter or a quitter? He bit his lip in haste, taking longer strides as he moved with a primal fervor towards his destination.

Where was Carol going? What had made her want to go in this direction? He knew Judith was likely the push for her to move out from her position in search of formula, but why? What was in this direction that caused her to leave? Why didn't she just listen like he said and stayed there?

"Dammit Carol." He hissed as he trudged through the brush, the pain in his shoulder starting to set in.

-//-//-

Carol cooed softly to Judith as she brushed the small tuft of hair out of her eyes. The baby happily gurgled in response letting out a small giggle as her tiny hands reached out for Carol to hold her. She grimly smiled at the small bundle and gently shook her head.

"I will be right back, Judith. Be quiet for me, okay?" Carol whispered as she brought the pacifier to the baby's lips. She sighed in relief as Judith took the pacifier, wide eyes wandering around the gray interior of the abandoned pickup truck Carol had found.

That had been a wonderful victory. Carol's legs were just about to give out after clambering over the rail when in the distance she could see the graveyard of cars that they had encountered after their journey from the CDC. She knew her feet were full of blisters and open sores but she had to keep moving. So far she had been lucky. There hadn't been a single walker in sight since she had been at the rendezvous point the day before. Luck could only get her so far before it ran out and she knew she was pushing it. Carol forced her legs to continue working. She couldn't quit not when there was still only an hour's worth of daylight left. She had to make it.

Carol felt her legs taking longer mechanical strides, her pace quickening as the abandoned cars slowly became larger and larger in view. She ignored the cramping pain in her legs and the ache in her feet as her spring grew faster with each step. She came across the first hatchback and collapsed against the hood panting having made a dash for it. The sight of the cars provided a certain incentive to force her want to get there faster. She had made it. That was all she needed to know and care about. She took a moment to catch her breath, her hand gently massaging her chest to ease the fire burning in her lungs. It had been quite some time since she ran like that. She had grown too accustomed to the comfort of the prison; that would have to change when she got back― if she ever did.

Carol grimaced at the victory from last night and placed a gentle kiss atop Judith's head with the ever looming notion that her friends may never find her. She softly shut the truck door, windows cracked ajar so air circulated through. She'd been lucky in that regard. She had found an old pickup with manual windows. A corpse had been dangling by the seat buckle out the door which she had to cut loose. It fell with a loud thud at her feet and she quickly drug it away, pushing it under the guardrail. The body rolled down the ravine with a stifled crash at the bottom.

Carol hastily furnished the cab setting up a small bundle of blankets at the floor passenger-side so Judith wouldn't squirm off the seat as she slept. She had heaved a sigh of relief at finding the pickup. Her luck had started picking up and it eased her worries of their survival. With everything being manual inside the cab, she could easily dictate the amount the window was rolled down or up. There was no need to rely on electronically controlled car locks or windows. Carol had the added bonus of the keys still being in the ignition. The man whoever he was had died in his car, but from what she would never know. He left not a thing to indicate he had opted out or been killed by walkers. Despite these things, she felt bad that his misfortune had been her fortune. They were safe for the night and she was glad for that one small piece of solace.

She had to focus now. She could be thankful later when she found formula to feed Judith. The highway had been eerily quiet all night. There should have been some sort of wild animal howling at the moon or the chittering of insects, maybe the creaking of old vehicles, but not a single living or dead thing gave indication it was nearby. It didn't sit well with her. Carol took her pistol off 'safety' and left it unholstered at her hip, Daryl's skinning knife in hand as she began her search for food. She had to be prepared as best as possible.

Carol took light steady steps as she crept low amongst the cars doing her best to step over the debris from the wreckage of cars, peeking through the glass of each car she came across. She peered inside of the closest window to her pickup. No car-seat. She moved along to another car keeping low to the ground. Another empty backseat. There had to be at least one car with a car-seat. If she could find just one, then maybe she could loot the trunk for the formula that was hopefully stowed away.

A few cars she had stumbled upon had boxes of food, but she skipped over those. Carol could wait for food despite the hunger pang that waned in the back of her mind and in the pit of her stomach. She had learned to go without on many occasions during the winter months, but Judith was still a growing baby. If they were going to ensure her survival, Judith came first no matter what. She was their last glimmer of hope for a future, as bleak as it was, and she would do her damnedest to make sure she made it out alive.

The smell of death no lingered as it had before. The grasses had grown thick around the tires of the cars. The hoods of the vehicles weathered from the sun's harsh rays accompanied with a thick layer of dust. There had not been any rain since early in the spring; not a single drop. Already Carol could feel the nip of winter. A smooth breeze was biting at her exposed skin.

Carol couldn't go back to the pickup now. She had work to do.

-//-//-

Daryl was running. At this point he didn't give a shit if he tore his stitches or impaled himself with another bolt. He wasn't the only one hunting in the forest. Another set of tracks had been found alongside Carol's beads and they weren't hers neither. Again he had ignored what was obvious in front of his face and now he was going to pay the price for his foolish observations. This could cost Carol her life― Judith's too.

His crossbow smacked against his back as he hurried through brush, ducking under tree branches. He didn't even care if he was following the bead trail. He had figured out where she was heading: the interstate. She was looking for another landmark that was visible and familiar. Carol was looking for something that she knew all her friends were aware of. As bad the memories were of the place, the interstate was the best chance Carol had of him finding her, but also just as terrible. Another walker herd could pass through or something much worse: a group of survivors could chance upon them and then it would be game over for her.

Daryl couldn't think like that. Not when he was so close to finding her.

It wasn't just the one set of tracks he was worried about. There had been several other sets of tracks. Heavy boot prints. What bothered him most was that they weren't walker tracks. The boot tracks were purposeful in their stride. How long ago had the beads been left there? Was it a day? Two days? The tracks were still relatively fresh, but he couldn't tell how long ago they really had been left there. For all he knew, Carol could be―

"Fuck." He grunted as he ran faster. He had to keep going. The pain in his leg was progressively getting worse. His bandage had come loose and the raw skin was chaffing from the movement from his pants. Daryl knew the graze would open up again and a new rash would fester in its place. That was the least of his worries.

With all the noise going on in his head, Daryl failed to see the uprooted tree stump. It's gnarled roots jutting up from the ground below in a tangled mess. His boot caught the root and thrust him forward, tumbling face first. Daryl was falling and all he could see was a whirl of water and mud. His vision went black for a split second as his head hit the rocky bed of the bank. Everything around him was spinning in and out of focus. He could feel a cold biting into his flesh as it lapped around his entire body. He sputtered as the water filled his nose and mouth and he choked. His hands were scuffed and shredded from trying to catch himself. His hands had slipped against slimy algae at the bottom and he lost his footing crashing face first into the bank, slamming his head against the rocks. He rolled heaving and coughing up the murky water, clearing his lungs the best he could.

Daryl sat up spitting the water out of his mouth, letting out a choked gasp for air. His fingers traveled to his temple where he had fallen. He could feel the lump forming where he had crashed against the rocks. The bump was swollen and tender to the touch. He could feel the blood rushing to the area and knew a headache wasn't too far away neither. Daryl withdrew his hand, quickly glancing over his fingers making sure he wasn't bleeding. There were some slight stains but nothing to really concern himself with. He ran his hands over his torso making sure he hadn't fallen on any of his bolts again. He may not have cared if he had before he fell into the water, but it would still be embarrassing all the same. Daryl let out a rasped chuckle knowing if he had impaled himself for a second time within a year he wouldn't live it down if he made it back to the prison.

He clambered to his feet, pushing up from his knees to a stand; legs shaking from his soaking wet clothes and the gentle breeze that didn't make him feel any better about his current situation. Daryl thought about stripping down real quick to prevent hypothermia knowing that would take up precious time he didn't have or he could just suck it up and keep pressing forward. He absently shook his head and began his climb up the muddy bank and back onto his path. He would just have to deal with it. There were more pressing matters than a catching a cold.

It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and Daryl suddenly felt a pull at his core. He recalled having climbed up this bank before. He'd sloshed around in this murky little creek trying to track Sophia when she had been chased down by walkers that fateful day. He would have naturally just assumed the worst when he had found her tracks diverting from the natural trail she had been going, but something had told him to hope that she had just been spooked and veered off out of fear. He wrinkled his nose, glaring harshly at the ground. He wouldn't let that happen to Carol. He'd never forgive himself. He didn't want to continue what was left of his life knowing that the one thing he had grown to care about had been taken away from him in that manner. Hell or high-water. He would find Carol.

He paused for a moment trying to collect himself. He shut his eyes, listening only to the staccato thrumming of his pulse in his ears. There was nothing else but himself out in the woods. He had to move. He couldn't continue thinking _**if**_ he found Carol. That wouldn't make things any easier if he found her dead or a walker. He had already dealt with that before and he wouldn't do it again. His stomach had been twisted in knots and his chest heavy.

Daryl understood now why the thought of Carol being gone had made him feel that way. He had pushed those feelings away hoping that if he never felt them then it wouldn't matter when those he had grown to care about were taken from him. Carol was different though. She had fearlessly followed him without question and proved time and time again her fierce loyalty to him. He had never asked any of those things from her; that had been of her own volition. From that Daryl knew, had known, for a long time that he had grown to care for her. It scared him that her life mattered more to him than his own. He was going to bring her home, even if it killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have an excuse for this being late beyond just being uninspired for a long time and then boom out of nowhere- inspiration! I hope this isn't too bland and out of voice for this particular piece. Sorry for the delay. Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

"Fuck." Daryl hissed as he lost his footing, slipping down the sloped ravine. _Nope. Not again._ He thought as he grit his teeth at the dirt and bark getting caught forcibly under his nails. He wouldn't fall prey to another bolt to the side or possibly worse impalement this time around. _Not fucking today. I don't have time for this shit._

He tried digging his heel into the soft soil, hands grabbing for any branch or vine that would keep him from losing his progress. He caught hold of a gnarled root jutting from the foundation of a tree that had a firm foothold in the slope. He puffed his cheeks in sharp breaths as he tried pulling himself further up the root trying to sidestep up the ravine as was the proper method of climbing up a hill with a steep incline. He jerked his shoulder trying to adjust the dig of the crossbow in his back as he made steady grip-holds on the root.

Daryl gnashed his teeth at the pain in his arm throbbing like a hot iron repeatedly stabbing him. He wasn't sure how much more he could take before it just gave out and rendered his arm useless due to the infection he knew was likely festering at that moment. Hell, he could smell the fucking blood congealing through his clothes with its rank smell permeating the earthy air. He bit his bottom lip as he continued pulling himself up little by little up the ravine. He didn't remember the incline being so steep before. Perhaps it was the delirium of the pain starting to set in. He didn't know, didn't really care neither, but from what he could see was the glint of a dulled metal creeping into view as he made his way up.

A renewed fervor was settling inside his chest and a new strength came about him. Daryl felt the climb become less of a chore as he found himself at the top of the ravine, thrusting himself up and over the rail, his boots hitting the welcoming asphalt road. He let out a heavy sigh falling into a pant on his hands and knees, head resting upon the ground. He didn't realize just how much of a trek it had been for him until he clambered back towards the railing, pulling himself up to peer over. It was a decent ravine with an even more unfriendly drop. Maybe at best a 30 yard fall would have awaited him had he not caught the tree root when he had.

Daryl felt a chill run up his spine, hairs on the back of his neck sticking up, and the goose-pimples rising on his forearms. _How fuckin' stupid of me._ He scoffed, rubbing the heel of his hand across his forehead, trying to rid it of the cool sweat and dirt that had collected from his reprieve. He pushed himself to his feet again and began following the interstate on shaky legs.

His clothes were soaked through and he was chilled right down to the bone. Droplets of water still dripped from the ends of his shaggy hair, pelting him in the face as he hurried through a small car wreck that was in the way of his destination. He didn't care. He was still so close yet so very far from the interstate point that they had all met up the night the farm fell. The sodden clothing had slowed his pace down some, but even worse was the dripping cold of the water still clinging to his clothing and the chaffing on his now open wounds. Had the weather still been a mirthful summer, Daryl might have been less irritated about the situation, but it wasn't. Fall had quietly crept upon them in little bouts as the days grew shorter and their breaths came in chilled puffs in the mornings.

He had to keep moving. Always moving. No more stopping. No more running away. No more hiding from what was always right in front of his face. Daryl could taste how close he was. _C'mon, I'm almost there._ He reassured himself. He was almost there.

\--//--//--

Carol wiped the sweat from her brow letting out a heavy sigh as she pried the door open to the dingy red mini-van she had been working on for the last 20 minutes. She gave it a wiggle and a sudden jerk and the door flung itself wide open sending her on her ass, crowbar letting out a deafening clang to the ground as it skidded away and under a nearby car. Carol let out a soft curse both at falling and the noise that had probably alerted anything dead that they weren't alone in the vicinity.

She got back to her feet, brushing the dirt off her pants. She hunched over trying to see where the crowbar had gone to. Wherever it had gone to—well, it surely was gone for the time being and proved to be a loss now that she no longer had a secondary weapon to stealthily defend herself with. Carol would have to go without for now. As long as she still had her knife, she would be fine temporarily.

The mini-van was a goldmine of baby paraphernalia from diapers, bottles, pacifiers, toys, and possibly canned formula she assumed. She couldn't exactly see any formula inside but with all the signs indicating that her hunch may be correct, Carol knew she had to get in there someway somehow. This was an opportunity she couldn't and wouldn't pass up. She had found maybe a few cans of formula at best that had been half-empty scattered amongst the debris and vacant car trunks. Nothing that she could write home about. Nothing that could last more than a week or two at best either. Judith was a growing baby and needed to be fed at least every four hours.

She swallowed the lump that had been slowly creeping up her throat, pursing her lips. Carol had resigned the notion that Daryl or Rick may never find her. If the worst had come to pass like she only hoped hadn't, then she knew she was on her own. She would have to make do and take the knowledge she had accumulated during her time with Daryl and Rick and apply it now. They weren't there to hold her hand like they had always done. Carol was alone.

A snap of a twig and Carol felt the tensions in her stomach begin knotting itself up in tight coils. She dropped to a crouch, flattening herself against the side of the van. She tried taking slow deep breaths to ease the panic building up in her chest. Her hands slowly moved to her hip where the skinning knife was sheathed, fingers hovering over its button clasp.

Another noise sent her fumbling to unsnap the button clasp on her knife as she heard glass rolling along the asphalt as if a bottle had just been callously kicked around. She heard no gravel crunching under heavy boots or scuffing of shoes being drug along. There was no groaning, growling, or heavy panting; just the clinking sound of the bottle rolling about the ground. She'd have to make a move soon otherwise she could leave herself open to attack and what good was she dead to Judith then?

Carol drew a sharp breath as she crept cautiously towards the rolling bottle still keeping herself hidden behind the cars. She felt she was at a close enough distance that she could safely overtake her opponent by force. She mindfully talked herself up telling her to just go. She absently nodded her head as she drew up her knife like Daryl had shown her. Carol let out a long breath before she lunged from behind the car ready to ram her knife into the skull of whatever thing had kicked the bottle. She found nothing there. Before letting out her sigh of reprieve she made sure nothing was lurking where she couldn't see. She dropped to her hands and knees looking under the cars.

Nothing. Empty space.

Carol got back to her feet and turned to look back towards the now open car. If all that she had hoped for was inside the car, she would be okay for a good chunk of time. She could probably find some place to hunker down and possibly start anew with Judith. The thought made her brow furrow and she felt the need to collapse to her knees and let out a sob, but she wouldn't. Carol couldn't do that now. She was still very much in no place to be feeling vulnerable like that. She drew a heavy breath through her nose, letting it shudder out of her lips as she swallowed the anxiety building in her throat.

She needed him. She couldn't do this all by herself no matter how much she had learned. Carol couldn't go it alone like she knew Daryl could. He was built for all this. She wasn't. No, she wasn't. Carol bit her bottom lip shaking her head. She couldn't have second doubts. Not right now. She had Judith to worry about. That was her goal, her focus: keeping Judith alive; ensuring her safety and survival.

Carol let out a deep breath, pulling herself up by her bootstraps as she made her way towards the car. She slung her pack back onto her shoulder as she climbed into the minivan making her way towards the back seat. She leaned over the back trying to see what was hidden in one of the suitcases she had noticed tucked away under a few blankets and thick winter coats.

She set her bag to the side as she reached over unzipping the bag finding nothing but clothes and toiletries, stuffing the latter inside her bag. She dug under the clothes hoping maybe something had been stuffed hidden away under it all. She was frantically ripping clothes out of the bag, throwing them haphazardly over her shoulder one by one as Carol realized this search may be in vain. When there was nothing left to throw, Carol sat defeated and alone in the mini-van.

Tired hands went to her temples gently massaging her ever growing headache. How was it that Glenn and Maggie always seemed to come back with something needed? Why could it be so easy for them, but a stretch of a miracle for her? It couldn't be that simple for them, could it?

Carol huffed and quickly shoved the empty bag to the side, grabbing the next one that was tucked under all the clothes. She unsnapped the buttons on the front of it, finding nothing but cigarettes and a lighter and a few condoms. She wrinkled her nose, before she thought better of them. Daryl had mentioned before that they could be used to store water and other liquids. Blushing, she pocketed them knowing he'd probably balk at her having not heeded his survival lessons. Carol set aside the lighter and cigarettes, if not for a fire, then for stress as it would be she'd take them. She unzipped the large pocket and felt a wash of relief flow through her. There were two cans of powdered formula and a decent baby bottle. She let out a heavy sigh, wiping the mistiness from her eyes, weariness seeping into her body.

A small incredulous chuckle bubbled from her lips as she hid her eyes with her hand. What had the chances been of her striking out that way? With all the lecherous supplies she'd found, what were the odds that baby formula had been in the bag all along? Surely she was just dreaming up the formula, could she? Carol spread her fingers, eyes peeking through the slats she had created. The formula—it sat there in the bag.

It was real.

Without hesitation, she zipped the bag up and shouldered it. If there was one thing she had learned it was that she needed as many places to store things as possible. There were still several other pockets that she hadn't checked but Carol didn't care. All she wanted was the food for Judith. She could worry about her own needs later. Daryl had put Judith in her charge. Judith came first.

Carol turned to leave the car, both bags in tow—everything went black. She saw stars before the dark and a flash of an object being swung at her, then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please read and review. Yell at me for being late if you all have to. I am so sorry! I hope you did enjoy this. Until next time.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the very, very late update. I've had other things and with the new school semester starting up I've had to get my finances up to par with where they should. All that real life jazz. Also I initially lost the first draft of this due to complications so this isn't my intentioned vision since its been redone to the best of what I had written before. I've been writing this on and off because of not knowing how to get from point A to point B, but I think I figured it out. Lots of The Civil Wars and The Last of Us listening sessions for sure helped spur the ideas for this. I hope it shows. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also: I own nothing in regards to The Walking Dead. All rights belong to the copyright holder.

Daryl's limped jog had helped dry his clothes some, but the rough material still chaffed at his wounds, irritation burning with a sharp piercing pain edging up his thigh. His hair was damp, but that didn't bother him none neither. None of it did. He just wanted to find Carol and Judith as soon as possible. That was all that mattered. He had given Rick his word and he would do just that. Dixons were good like that.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief at the sight of the car graveyard. It looked just as it had the day they had left it not too long ago. Same dusty and now corroded cars in a quiet and unfriendly ghost town that creaked and moaned of seasons past.

He took cautious slow steps trying to ease the weight off his leg as he ambled through the maze of cars. He moved with a slight limp as he crept along the pavement at an easy leisure pace. The hunter had already swung his crossbow to his front, finger hovering near the trigger in the event he had to loose an arrow fast if caught off guard. If he was alert enough he wouldn't have to deal with drawing the string back to nock another arrow.

It was deathly quiet around him. Very little if any noise; only the light rustle of trees from the woods and the gentle creak of rusty door hinges having been left open for far too long pierced the sullen silence. It didn't sit right with him. Made the hairs on the back of his neck prickle with racked nerves.

Nothing 'bout any of this did. He should have at least heard Carol rummaging through some truck bed or perhaps maybe the distinct giggle or crying of Judith-- somewhere. Silence welcomed him and it made him anxious as hell to find them and get the fuck out of there as soon as possible. He didn't want to linger too much. They were too exposed for a rival group to see them or walkers moving in a herd to corner them.

Daryl paced towards several cars, peeking inside to see if Carol had taken refuge in one trying to gauge whether or not she was even there anymore. It was hard to say. Tracking on pavement was much more difficult than in the woods where he could use the broken foliage or the imprint of her boots to get a read on whether she had been by a few minutes or hours ago. He sighed, biting back the grimace that was creeping onto his lips and the anxiety settling in the pit of his stomach.

He stopped in his tracks.

He heard it: muffled crying. It was a baby's wailing cry. The hunter knew that cry anywhere. He pushed forward stumbling towards each car almost crashing into each hood, trunk, didn't matter as he strained trying to crane his neck to see if the car he was heaving against was the one Judith was hiding in. The sound grew louder as he drew closer to a silver pickup truck. The wail was muted but still loud enough that he had caught it. He figured the windows had been cracked just enough so that Judith could breathe whilst still maintaining a gentle warmth from the fall chill that had slowly crept in.

Daryl looked around cautiously before peeking through the glass and spying Judith huddled on the floor in a bunch of blankets. He tapped the glass trying to get her attention so she would soften up her crying. Perhaps if she saw Daryl, a familiar face peering through, she would calm down enough for him to get her to relax.

He gently rapped against the glass with his fingers drawing her attention up to him in the window. Judith's head turned up slightly and her bunched crying face slowly fell away almost immediately at the sight of him. A wide grin spread across her chubby face as she stared in wonderment at him through the window grasping at him to pick her up.

The hunter breathed a small sigh of relief as he quietly opened the car-door, greeted by the bubbling laughter of the baby tucked away inside. He leaned in and reached for Judith. He scooped her up in his arms and gave her a gentle rock as he carefully took note of what was inside the cab of the truck. He noticed a bag or two that sat where Carol had presumably slept. The gunny sacks of supplies he had put together were no longer there. Daryl figured she had used them for looting. Smart woman. He thought to himself as he continued roving the cab to get a better indication of Carol's whereabouts. His poncho lay draped along the bench of the cab seat bunched near another blanket she had probably been using to keep out the nippy winter chill that was starting to settle upon them.

Daryl bounced Judith once more in his arms giving her a quick brush of his lips against the crown of her head and set her back into the bundle of blankets Carol had made for her. He spoke in a soft gruff voice, “Be quiet fer me, a'ight?”

He wagged a knowing finger at the baby as she let out a giggle kicking her legs a bit beneath the blanket. A throaty laugh escaped his lips as he tucked the blanket around her small body. Daryl nodded a little to her as he shut the door making sure he heard the click of the lock mechanism and continued his search for Carol.

The air was still and the ebbing sensation of tingles in his shoulder wasn't making his trek any easier to navigate amongst the debris and car wreckage. He especially didn't find it comfortable with trying to keep his crossbow at the ready with it drawn half-way. The throbbing pain had him gritting his teeth as he edged along the guardrail trying to keep out of sight in case he came across walkers or another opposing search party. He could deal with walkers since they were easily predictable whereas humans were not. He'd learned that the hard way with how erratic Merle was when he had taken Maggie and Glenn, but he didn't blame him. None of them. They had made their choices and in the heat of the moment mistakes had been made.

He gruffed at the thought, still moving silently and steadily on shaky legs. The hunter took notice of the deep RV tracks that still embedded the median where it had gotten stuck at one point when they were trying to get to the Greene farm. That had been after their second night of searching for Sophia.

Daryl knew he was getting closer to it and he felt the tension knot his guts up as he saw it come into view. The painted words were smeared and worn out from the weathering of days gone by. He could still see the letters vivid in his mind despite how faded they were now. How could the hunter not recall what had been written there? He'd been an onlooker to the events watching as Lori wrote the letter and Carol stood by the wayside eyes red and cheeks puffy from cryin' the night before. He didn't blame her. She had just lost her daughter and for all she knew she could just be gone. Daryl knew the feeling well. He had still been searching for Merle despite the fact that he had long since traveled away from Atlanta. He knew that he may chance on Merle someday, sooner or later. Nothing could kill Merle, but himself. He knew that well enough and he would continue to believe it until otherwise.

He continued on brushing his fingers lightly against the side panel of the car, leaving a trail cut through the thick dust that caked the car. Had it really been that long? He thought as he crept along the car still trying to maintain a low profile. He heard a can roll and a shuffle. Daryl cautiously made his way over towards the sound, ears perked up to catch any other noise. He drew his bow up eyes glaring down the reticle. The can rolled into view and a walker lurched out from behind a car. His finger squeezed the trigger and the arrow was loosed as quickly as it had come around the corner-- bullseye. The walker fell with a low thud and the hunter quietly moved toward the body pulling the arrow from its soft skull. He wiped the arrow clean at the calf of his pant leg and dropped his crossbow down so his foot was planted firmly on the stirrup, struggling to draw the string back.

He grunted through the pain, biting back the grimace creeping onto his lips. Daryl knew that in a pinch his shoulder was going to determine a lot with how things would pan out. Whether or not they made it out alive being the highest ticket on his list. It didn't bode well and he felt it twist in his stomach the thoughts of 'could haves' swirling about. Where was she?

He looked about the area not seeing much as far as an indicator was concerned that Carol was around. He huffed in irritation hearing the string nock back completely and quickly set off in the direction he had been following. He drew his crossbow up as he pressed forward, ears keened on any noise that might settle his nerves and bring him that much closer to Carol and the Prison. Daryl so desperately wanted to be back in the confines of the Prison waiting out the rest of this bullshit so he could heal and mill about with his usual duties.

It was distant, but he had heard it. He knew that yelp from anywhere. "Fuck," he hissed under his breath as he limped in the direction of the cry he had heard.

The hunter's breath caught in his throat when he heard the cackling and jeers echoing loud in the area. He quickened his pace, still maintaining a stealthy creep. He came to a van, its exhaust still pungent in the air and the tailpipe radiating a warm heat as he cautiously moved alongside it. He peeked over its hood trying not to bark colorful words at what he had found.

Carol wasn't alone. He counted three men encircling her as she wildly thrust the skinning knife he had given her at the soft of their bellies. Daryl could clearly see that something was wrong. Her thrusts were not true and she wasn't completely following through with what he had shown her.

Red. He saw the dribble of blood running down her temple in a slow stream. His lip curled back at the sight wanting to shove his knife into each and every single bastard that stood taunting at her. He hoped she got one of them good with his knife. He kept quiet though, watching with bated breath trying to assess the situation before bull-rushing into the group and possibly getting them both killed.

A man in a red ball cap came up from behind her and in a swift notion pinned her arms up high in a disabling hold. He carefully removed her knife before pressing it at the pulse point of her neck relishing in the way she turned away from it. He cackled in a deep throaty voice as she squirmed trying to free herself, but his hands had a firm hold on both her arms and the knife precariously against her throat.

"Hey honey, yer only makin' this much harder for us to keep ya 'live, ya know tha' right?" He cooed pressing his chapped lips against her cheek. Running his tongue along her cheek, grinned rubbing his nose into the soft flesh of her cheek.

Daryl could feel the heat rise in his own cheeks and his anger burning like a stoked fire as he watched from the wayside the way the man pressed himself up against her, a toothy grin spreading across his lips feeling the contours of her body melding with his. He grit his teeth, nails digging half-moons into his palm as he watched the display. If he had known any better he would think the man already knew Daryl was there watching him put on a bravado to show what he was able to and could do to her.

Despite his want to run in and thrust his knife in each of their skulls, Daryl knew that could easily backfire and it would end her life faster than he could end theirs. He waited biting the inside of his cheek as he watched the man continue to run his lips along her face and down her neck. "My such sof' skin ya got there honey. I'm sure you'll do jus' nice fer us all." He smirked running his tongue down her neck his hand with the knife slowly traveling down her chest fingers brushing along her breast through the material.

He watched as the man wedged a knee between her legs. His free hand with the knife roaming about her body, it's garish blade precariously brushing; the other still held tight against her to keep from moving. Daryl could wager that this wasn't the first woman that had fallen prey to this band of miscreants. The way his hands held her in place gave indication that he'd had some practice. The anger was bubbling up at the thought that if he hadn't made his trek out as he had-- he couldn't think like that now. He had to get rid of these men and reclaim Carol. Get her away from them somehow.

Carol squirmed, body shaking from the trembling fear flashing in her eyes. It was getting increasingly more difficult for Daryl to keep his cool, to resist from rushing in. He was sure this man knew he was there as all this seemed pre-executed. Already known that he was lying in wait.

“Yer gon' like us, ver' much honey.” The ball cap wheezed as he slipped his hand beneath her shirt. Carol tipped her head back biting her lower lip, brows knitted together as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.

At that moment, Daryl didn't care. That look in her eye spoke all that needed saying. Told him exactly what he needed to do. He drew his crossbow up and came prowling towards them with a seething anger that followed with him. "Git away from 'er!" He barked harshly glaring at them hoping his bluff would work, moving through the pain of his arm and leg.

The man grinned wickedly jerking Carol around to face Daryl, knife returning back to its place near her throat. "Find yer own woman. This ones ours. Don't ya know it ain't kind to take what ain't yers, Georgia?" The man crowed pressing his cheek into Carol's-- the same grin still intact on his lips.

"She ain't yers to have. I advise ya give her back." He growled keeping his bow drawn up and aimed at the man's head. His aim was true and he wouldn't miss if he had to take a shot. Didn't matter if he was near death, Daryl knew he wouldn't miss. He couldn't afford to be lazy.

Grabbing her chin and jerking her face up to face Daryl, the red capped man pressed his lips into Carol's cheek. "Oh this be yer woman? Is this yer man honey?” He cackled pausing in his jeer to look back at Carol with raised brows. “Is Georgia here your squeeze?" He cooed adjusting his grip on her so her head was turned up, eyes aimed at Daryl as he continued to speak.

She tried to remain calm only letting out a small whimper at the dig of the man's fingers at her jaw. Maintaining a quiet vigil more or less. She uttered no words to say that she knew who Daryl was. And for that Daryl was grateful.

"Yer the silent type huh sweetie? D'ya like it when Georgia touches ya like this? Makes ya moan fer him when he's makin' sweet love t'ya? Huh?" The man groused dragging the knife along her clavicle, fingers brushing along her chest and down towards the waistband of her jeans. His grin widened at the look on Daryl's face which spoke volumes of what he wanted to do to the man when he got his hands on him.

"Ya keep fuckin' with her an' y'all wish ya hadn't. Let 'er go and y'all can walk away." Daryl gruffed taking a cautious step forward but hesitated on his next step when the red cap drew the knife grazing it along her skin. A tendril of blood began to streak down her chest. The knife was sharper than he'd wagered. If he wanted to save her he would have to end this now.

"Oh Georgia, boy. Ya think we're some stupid sons of bitches, huh? Let me tells you she won't make it out alive. I can guarantee she won't. Now you bes' turn 'round and go back the ways yous came. Run alon'. We'll take good care o' yer woman.” He chided flicking his hand with the knife at him to get moving. Daryl didn't move. Stood stock still, crossbow still aimed at the man, eyes narrowed with a glare that could have set him aflame if he could.

Daryl scoffed in the silent standoff as he took a precarious step forward. He was daring the man to make a move. The man smirked before laughing. “You done fucked up Georgia.”

It was fast and instant. The knife sliding across her neck. The look of pure surprise and fear crossing her features as her hands flew to her throat. The way her body immediately dropped to the ground and the way the man simply spat at the ground, grinning ear to ear. Daryl didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger of the crossbow and watched as it sailed and launched itself through the skull of the man. He fell in a heap beside Carol.

The swell of anger coursing through his veins sent Daryl into a flurry. He felt no pain in his arm. Nothing in his leg. Pure adrenaline and anger. His boot was on the stirrup in seconds and despite the heavy tautness of the string, Daryl had it drawn back and ready to fire. The two onlookers to the ball capped man, took several glances from the scene before firing several shots and missing. Seeing that their bullets hadn't hit their target, they set off in a run.

It was like prey and predator. Them running sent a trigger through his brain and he was on them as quickly as they'd took off. One was faster than the other and the more haggard and worn man was the one Daryl had set his sights on.

The man was pinned in seconds under Daryl's quick fists and leveraged thrust of his body weight sending them in a tussle of limbs to the ground. The haggard looking man's head snapped to the left as Daryl gave him a good hook to the chin. He pulled his knife from its sheath and without much a second thought rammed the blade deep into the man's heart. Daryl let the hilt settle in his hand before giving it a good jerk down into the man's soft belly. The haggard hunter was writhing beneath Daryl but he didn't care. His shaking fingers were trying to grab Daryl's hands and wrench the jammed knife free from his chest. The haggard hunter sputtered out blood as his fingers fell limply to his side, mouth falling open as he let out one last stunted breath.

Daryl harrumphed at him as he pulled his knife from the broken rib cage. He took off into a run after the other man that had bolted at the sight of his companion being pummeled to death. He scoffed at the thought of ever leaving one of his own behind in such a manner. Daryl swung his crossbow from his back to the front and stopped in place taking careful aim. He pulled the trigger as he watched the arrow sail through the air striking the man in the leg. He stumbled and fell letting out a shriek as a red shade began creeping into his pant leg. Daryl continued after the shrieking man, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and thrusting him up onto his feet, hand firmly digging the arrow into the bastards leg.

"Anymore of ya I gotta worry about, huh?" He barked jerking the arrow around in the now profusely bleeding wound. The man panted letting out a sharp 'NO' in rebuttal.

Daryl nodded at him snarling, "Right fine by me." He yanked hard on the arrow, pulling it out of his thigh. "Looks like I hit the femoral artery.” He scoffed shaking his head a little before giving him a good swift kick. “You better run." He hissed wiping the blood off his arrow on the man's own pant leg.

He heard the gurgled noises from behind him. It pulled the hunter away from what he had been doing. He'd let the man be pied piper to his own demise with the trail of blood fresh in the air and the loud shrieks of pain that had been emitted in the commotion. He'd be a good distraction point for any walkers headed for them.

Daryl took off towards where Carol lay on the ground hand clamped tight around her throat, hands and jacket bled through. He applied strong pressure around her neck thinking quickly as best as he possibly could. He hadn't forgotten that she'd been there. He'd been too hellbent on making the bastards pay. Her eyelashes were fluttering open and shut as her lips moved to form words, but nothing came out.

"Don't you do this to me Carol. Nope. Not now. C'mon. It ain't more 'an a nick. C'mon we gotta go back." He gruffed resting her head in his lap. Daryl pulled his grease rag from his back pocket and removed her bloodied hands from her wound.

A long red sliver went along the soft curve of her neck where the blood was flowing freely from. He examined it carefully before letting out a huff of relief. The artery hadn't been severed but that didn't mean by any means that she was out of the woods. He needed to stop the bleeding and stitch that slice shut. Daryl applied the rag to her neck with a firm but gentle pressure to stop any further bleeding while soaking up the blood that had been mucking up their clothes.

Carol needed help. That much was apparent but he also needed to grab Judith and bring her over to where they were. She was alone in the car nearest the front. Carol didn't have that kind of time nor could he just leave Judith in there by herself. Daryl had to make a choice and fast. He felt his chest clench and a shaking in his bones forcing him to pick Carol up. He shakily made his way over to the minivan that had its door wide open. He assumed she had been looting it when she had been encountered. He laid her inside the van, head propped on bunched up coats above her heart to help with appeasing the pressure of blood being forced through her veins.

“I'll be back.” He huffed, brushing plastered sweaty curls of her hair from her face and pressing his lips lightly upon her forehead. “Don't you give up on me, ya hear?”

Daryl frowned at her lack of response, that stinging pain in his chest leaping back, but knew she was still with him despite that. He'd felt her pulse when his fingers had brushed along her neck and it somewhat eased his worry. With a low grunt, he slid the door shut letting his fingers linger a moment on its handle before sprinting off towards where Judith was. He didn't care that the throbbing sting in his leg was making his trek back all the more unbearable.

He didn't have a choice. If he wanted to get both, Daryl had to bite back the pain and carry forward. Dixons weren't no pussies. They were strong men that didn't cry. Men that did whatever it took to get a job done. He shook his head as he pressed on knowing his thoughts weren't too far from the truth.

He took off in a small jog retracing his steps back to where he had found the baby girl when he had first arrived. Daryl could hear her soft laughter coming from the truck that she had been tucked in near the dash of the passenger seat. He opened the door softly, pressing his calloused fingers to his lips to shush her. He huffed a sigh of relief as she immediately quieted down staring at him with big wide eyes, a cheeky smile spreading across her face. Daryl hurriedly bagged everything he could that was obviously Carol's that lay on the bench of the cab. He tossed his poncho over his shoulders and quickly scanned the cab over ensuring nothing was left behind.

The hunter gently carried Judith in his arms, clutched against his chest back to the mini-van. He wound his arms around her protectively, ensuring her safety before his own as he stalked back with quiet even footfalls despite his limp. Daryl maneuvered Judith into the crook of his good arm as he slid the mini-van door open with a grunt and groan of pain. He panted a little trying to make as little noise as possible. No knowing what was lingering with the gun shots that had been fired as well as the screams that had come from the area. Daryl had to be extra careful.

"Carol. It's me. I'm here." Daryl groused as he gingerly climbed into the mini-van himself and settled Judith into the open suitcase that had been previously looted. She nestled into the mass of blankets he had layered to create a make-shift cradle for her to lay in giggling happily as she tried grabbing at the lengthy wisps of hair at his temples. He pulled back just enough so she was out of reach, tucking her in so she couldn't roll out of the suitcase.

"Carol?" He repeated looking over his shoulder at her. She lay motionless beyond the shallow rise and fall of her chest. Daryl shifted over towards Carol pressing his middle and index fingers to the base of her wrist where the pulse was at her thumb. It was incredibly faint. He felt his heart thrumming in his own chest as he looked at her pale cheeks and the bloody rag at her neck. Daryl could feel the panic begin to set in as he gently nudged her.

She didn't respond.

The hunter reached over to the soaked through grease rag and removed it to see if her wound was still bleeding out. Dribbles of blood ran a jagged line down her neck as he grabbed at another piece of clothing that had been carelessly tossed in the car. He pressed it against her neck adding a bit more pressure than before. He needed to get the bleeding to stop if possible so he could try and figure out how to close her knife wound.

He raked a hand through his mussy hair trying to figure out where he would have some type of cordage or twine. The hunter could feel the small fire of anger beginning to seethe through at having been too late to help Carol. He had made it his mission to bring them both back and here he was. A step behind and a life less than before. He huffed massaging the bridge of his nose trying to calm himself down. He couldn't blow up now. He had to think rationally about what could be done for Carol.

This wasn't the end. Not by a long shot.

He could still save her. It took him a moment to realize that he had a small bit of fishing line from Merle when they had been out in the woods. Daryl grabbed at his backpack and quickly started rummaging through each pocket, snapping buttons and zippering pouches chucking unnecessary shit that he didn't need in search of the line. He found a small little plastic bag of fish line and hooks.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he made sure the hooks looked clean and lucky him there were no barbs on the hooks. Clean regular hooks. This had to be too good to be true. There was no way he could be this lucky right now.

"Carol— this might hurt. 'M sorry." He mumbled under his breath as he removed the article of clothing that had been soaking up her bleeding. He took note of the cut and ground his teeth a moment not sure whether he could do this. His hands were shaking slightly and he had stopped breathing.

_Come on, Darylina. Don't want your lady love to bleed out now do ya? Time's a-tickin' fer her. Better get a move on or yer gonna lose 'er._

Merle's voice was egging him on in his head and he had to blink back the fear he had. He was afraid and he was alone. He didn't have anyone with him. He had sewn up his own wounds before with no regard to infection or how haphazardly of a job he had done for himself, but this was different. Daryl cared what happened to Carol. He couldn't see her hurt knowing that he could do something to help save her.

Daryl took a deep shuddering breath as he knotted the end of the line as much as possible. He brought the hook close to her flesh and waited a moment. How did he expect to save her when all the other people he had tried saving were always just out of his grasp? What made this any different? He hadn't been able to save Sophia. He couldn't save Carol the first time when he thought they had lost her in the tombs. And he sure as fuck couldn't save Merle neither. How did he expect to save Carol now? His track record was awful and he knew she knew that. He shut his eyes massaging his temples letting the full force of failures hit him repeatedly over and over again.

_Yer wastin' time, Darylina._

He felt the featherlight cold touch at his elbow and Daryl's eyes snapped open. Carol's hand wavered outstretched as she tried her best to reassure him, brushing her thumb against the scratched leather of his jacket. "You're— every bit as good— every bit..." She murmured in a choked rasp. Her eyelashes were fluttering open and shut as she spoke in broken fragments.

She believed in him. Carol believed he was capable of doing what needed to be done. He took her hand and rest it on his knee. Her fingers lacked the normal warmth against his skin as he felt them tremble. Daryl huffed again and took another deep breath bringing the hook close to the wound.

This was it.

“Here we go.” He murmured as he began weaving the hook through the sub-dermal layer of the skin. With deft and steady fingers, Daryl managed to get the other end of the hook through the opposing side of flesh and sew it together. He pulled the length of line through the wound just tight enough so he started the close of the stitching.

The hunter felt her wince as her nails dug deep half moons into his kneecap. Carol's brow furrowed at the pain, but she didn't emit any sound. She just took it. This bothered Daryl more than it should have. He could chalk it up to the years that she had been abused, just dealing with the pain. He felt his lip curl up into a slight snarl angry that she had grown accustomed to dealing with such trauma. That this to her was nothing more than pain she could tuck away and withhold the signs of weakness— that this hurt more than Carol was letting on.

Despite knowing how much he was hurting Carol, Daryl pushed through winding the hook through the tender flaps of flesh, pulling them together in a tight stitch.

When Daryl had finished the stitching, the knit in Carol's brow didn't falter and for a moment, he had to keep himself from vigorously shaking her shoulders to rouse her. The moment her fingers loosened their grip at his knee, Daryl felt a wash of relief fall over him. He sighed heavily laughing a little to himself at how absurd he was being. Rubbing the heels of his hands across the hollows of his eyes, Daryl fell back against the opposing sliding door trying to find some respite in all the racked and confused nerves running the gamut of his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Again sorry for the late update! Please leave a review.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it! More to come.


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